


In a Lonely World

by carimasali



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Mention of torture, Miscarriage, Turian - Krogan conflict
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 19:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 132,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5551826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carimasali/pseuds/carimasali
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tensions between Krogan and Turian have never been the best, even after the Genophage was cured. The day comes where Krogan settle on a turian claimed planet. Cooperation between the two species is difficult and tensions are high. </p><p>Then, one day Garrus is send by the Hierarchy to report on the latest negotiations. It is supposed to be an short mission, but time passes. Shepard waits for her favorite turian to come back, but something happens that forces the commander to intervene personally. </p><p>Shepard is on her own again, but this time she has the burden of her own, unsolved grief on her shoulders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A multi-chaptered Mass Effect fanfiction 
> 
> English is not my native language, but I love writing in English. Comments are really appreciated. If you see any mistakes, if you have any suggestions how I can improve my writing, then please do so.

Shepard woke up on an empty stomach and a sweat denched mattress. She heaved out a sigh and forced herself out of bed. She sighed again and stretched her arms behind her back, whimpering as the bones and muscles cracked. It was a nice feeling and she flopped back onto the bed.

Today was another day. Another day in an empty apartment and endless waiting for new orders, while eagerly counting the minutes until Garrus called. It was Thursday, but Shepard felt as if the week had just begun with a weariness typical of an employee forced to a boring, endless routine.

Is that what her life had become? Routine?

She shook her head, red strands falling to her face. She had shattered routine in pieces as soon as Miranda gave her the green light. The former Cerberus agent had overseen her physical therapy and still insisted (together with Karin Chakwas) to continue the psychological treatment. Shepard bit her lip, her knuckles turning white as her fingers dug deeply into the mattress. She didn’t want anyone to mess with her mind. Her lower lip trembled as she thought of the last two weeks. She shook her head again. The only thing she wanted was to be left alone.

Picking up her favorite pants from the floor and taking her N7-shirt from the drawer, Shepard left her bedroom to shower. Her flat had two bathrooms, which was a luxury compared to the size of most apartments in the Citadel. The accommodation had been a gift from the Council for her “war efforts”. Shepard huffed in disgust. Where had the recognition been during her fight with the Collectors?

She evaded passing by the larger bathroom with long, quick steps, but the contrast of red on white tiles nevertheless flashed before her eyes. To make things worse, Shepard dropped her clothes and she had to stop to pick them back up. She was being ridiculous, she repeated to herself as she stormed out of her bedroom.

She didn’t know why she was so affected. But the more she struggled to keep the grief contained, the more Shepard felt herself fall down the pit she had fought so hard to climb out of after the war.

It wasn’t the first time she had lost someone. It was something that she reminded herself of, time and time again, when the grief was close to overwhelm her. Hell, she hadn’t even known her. _Him_. No! _It_. It! It! It! Her child had only been two months old – not even born yet!

Shepard growled through gritted teeth and punched the wall. The pain went through her entire right arm until all she felt was numbness in the limb. Her eyes were burning with unshed tears, her lips a trembling, thin line, the lines on her forehead a little more pronounced.

The smaller bathroom was a welcome, but ineffective refuge from the vivid memory. Shepard undressed quickly, climbing into the tiny shower, gasping as the cold water hit her back. The water mingled with her tears. She washed herself quickly, as if she was still in the military academy where showers were to last five minutes at the most. It was over soon and she climbed out of the shower. She sniffled, gasping quietly as she dried her body with a roughened towel. The green fabric slowed as it reached her belly. There was no sign of what she’d carried inside her for the nine short weeks before. Shepard huffed, drying her hair roughly, before throwing the towel on the sink and rushing out of the bathroom with her head still in her shirt.

Rays of a mature morning sun streamed through the blinds. Shepard drank a cup of coffee as she checked her omni-tool for any missed messages. There was a brief message from Garrus, who needed desperately a moment to vent about the annoying schedule. A longer message was from her friend Liara, informing her that work was calling her to the Citadel and asking if Shepard had time to hang out a bit.

Shepard was about to respond, but hesitated. She wondered, not with a small amount of fear, if her friend knew about her… accident. Liara was the Shadow-Broker, though she had promised not to spy on her day to day life.

The Spectre shook her head. There was no point in getting upset as long as she didn’t know for certain. She would have to wait. And with this thought in mind, Shepard send her friend a brief answer, where she suggested to meet at her favorite café at noon on the day after tomorrow.

There were no more messages to her relief, but to her consternation Miranda had called. Not twice, but four times and each message was longer and more aggravated than the last. There was no use, Shepard realized with a drop of shoulders. She had to meet the former Cerberus agent and get over with the check-up.

A shudder went through her spine and settled in her stomach, making her feel slightly nauseous.

If only Garrus was home.

*

About two years after the war, Miranda had opened her own medical facility in the Citadel. Within a year her office had become one of the most renowned in the galaxy. At first, it had only been Miranda and two assistants, now there were about sixty people under her employment.

Considering that everyone knew Commander and Spectre Jane Shepard, Hero of the Citadel, Savior of the Galaxy, etc., Miranda waited for her patient outside the building and led her in through the entrance reserved for staff only.

Greetings were brief and bordering to snappy in Shepard’s case.

She remembered. That was her problem. She remembered even though she tried hard to forget.

And Miranda was the only one who knew that Shepard had lost her child. It was her who had told Shepard she was pregnant. She had treated Shepard after the miscarriage.

It happened two weeks ago, a few days after an assignment from the Council. Had Shepard known what the assignment would turn into, she would have told the Council to go to hell. But then it had seemed an easy task. A mission in the Citadel, close to home and away from the stress of space travel wasn’t something she hadn’t done before.

It wasn’t her fault, the Commander whispered to herself. But Shepard slapped the voice away, because it had been, in fact, her fault.

She should have… she should have been more careful. There was nothing she could have done. No one had warned her. And she had closed the mission without a scratch or any sore muscle, beside the nausea and breast tenderness typical for the first trimester of pregnancy.

The days after the assignment had been calm like a snowy Christmas night. She visited Miranda at her office to get a checkup and an ultrasound scan. She had kept the picture and stared at it with a healthy mixture of excitement and fascination and fear. Her child – _their_ child – had not been recognizable, but Miranda had assured her than in a few months she would start recognizing the shape of the limbs and the head.

Oh, Shepard couldn’t wait to tell Garrus the good news. His return was scheduled in two weeks, three if the krogan and turians butted head for a while longer, but soon nonetheless. Her happiness had been contagious and Garrus had felt it. With a pang to her heart Shepard realized that there was a horrible possibility that her husband had begun to suspect, to hope for what they had fought so hard not to hope for.

Miranda helped her into the seat and she allowed it to happen, because her strength had abandoned her. Now she sat there in the room. Alone again. Alone forever. Shepard covered her face in her hands with a shaky sigh.

Then, exactly a week ago, Shepard woke up feeling sicker than usual. There was a dull pain in her abdomen, and clouded by it, she stumbled into the main bathroom connected to her bedroom. She swallowed the pain killers that Miranda had prescribed her. Her shirt  clung to her heated, wet skin and when she reached down between her legs, her heart had frozen. Her hand was wet. There was another piercing pain and she gasped. Her inner thigs were wet. Her sleeping shorts drenched in blood. It ran down her inner thighs, dropping to the floor like rain drops. Red on white tiles.

 _Dear God, no!_   Those had been her exact thoughts as she slipped on the blood.

In retrospect, Shepard was unable to remember what happened afterwards. How or when she called Miranda. Maybe she had passed out and the other woman had found her lying on her own puddle of blood… she honestly didn’t remember much; only the important bits:

Miranda’s sympathetic eyes as she gave her the bad news.

  _“I’m sorry, Shepard.”_

_“I tried everything possible, but… You miscarried.”_

_“You lost your child, Shepard. I’m sorry.”_

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… those were words she repeated to herself, to Garrus and to the unborn child.

The door swished open and Miranda walked in. She grabbed a chair and moved closer to Shepard, who spread her legs as was expected.

“Good morning, Shepard”, the good doctor said conversationally as she put on her gloves. “How are you feeling?”

Shepard shrugged. “No pain. Cramps and a bit of bleeding, but they stopped two days ago”, she answered with a cutting edge to her voice.

Miranda glanced at her with a raised brow, assessing her mood, but thankfully stayed quiet. “That’s good news”, she said. “The worst is behind you, I think.”

“Yeah”, Shepard scoffed.

The check-up lasted a few more minutes in which neither woman spoke. Eventually, Miranda gave a nod and tapped Shepard’s knee. The Commander closed her legs and stretched them as the other woman took off her gloves and threw them into the basin. While Shepard turned to a corner to get dressed, Miranda scribbled something in her files.

“Does Garrus know?”, she asked suddenly.

“Not yet…” And perhaps he never will.

“Have you considered counseling, Shepard?” 

Shepard froze. “No.”

Miranda licked her lips, before turning to her friend.

“Shepard…” Miranda sighed and took a seat again. She rubbed her forehead. “Shepard, counseling is highly recommended after a miscarriage. And especially in a case as delicate as yours.”

Shepard’s eyes flashed. “ _Delicate?”_ she snapped. “Is that what you think I am?”

“No, I don’t.” Miranda showed no sign of being hurt or otherwise disturbed by Shepard’s outburst. “But you’ve been under physical therapy for almost three years and psychotherapy and you’re still under observation. You have been through a lot, more than anyone else and-”

“Are you afraid I’m going to break?” Shepard asked through gritted teeth. Her eyes filled suddenly with tears and her voice broke. “Because I am…”

Miranda closed her mouth and her expression softened at the rare vulnerability her friend showed. She sighed and pushed her chair toward her.

“Shepard…” Miranda hesitated. She didn’t know where to begin. She had dealt with cases like this before, but never had she been this close to a patient. “You need to allow yourself time to heal.”

“But-”

“You’ve suffered a loss and it’s made worse because no one else knows about this. No one you can share your pain with”, she continued gently, but firmly. “Do you want to hear my advice?”

Shepard shrugged, her cheeks wet.

“You need to tell Garrus. He… well, he was the father. He deserves to know. How else do you expect him to help you through this?”

Shepard sighed and covered her face with a hand. “God…” she muttered under her breath. “I’m a mess… I wasn’t really a mother anyway.”

“You were a mother, Shepard”, Miranda objected gently. “Denying this won’t help you. Not in the long run. You need to face this.”

“I _am_ facing this!”, Shepard snarled. “I’m dealing with this the way I’ve _always_ dealt with everything before! And it has always worked out well for me, so stop telling me what to do!”

Miranda glowered over her. “No.” Her voice was firm and cold. “I don’t think you are dealing with it like you used to, Shepard.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. “What do _you_ know?”

“I know a great deal more than I let on”, the dark haired woman said. “I want to help you. And I’m worried for you.” She searched for Shepard’s gaze, but the Commander stared coldly at the opposite wall. She sighed. “Shepard… have you thought of a name?”

“No…” she croaked out. It was a lie, and Miranda knew this, but giving _it_ a name would only make it real.

“You should. Once you’ve given it a name, you will be able to put a face to it and maybe you’ll finally allow yourself to grieve.” She stood up, the chair rolled lazily away from her. Miranda hesitated. “The loss of a child is not like the loss of a friend, Shepard. I don’t know what it’s like, but I’ve met people who do.” She brushed her shoulder with her skillful fingers. “If anyone can make it through it, it’s you, Commander. There’s a self-help group for parents who’ve miscarried. I’ve heard good things about it…”

Shepard chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah, but it’s not anonymous. At least not for me…” She shook her head and stood up, wiping the remaining wetness from her eyes. “I’ll deal with it on my own.”

Miranda sighed and ran a hand over her face.

“Alright,” she said with a wave of her hand. “But you need to tell Garrus. Promise me.”

Shepard smiled weakly and gave her a short nod. “I promise, Miranda. And-” She hesitated. “Thank you. For… you know… being there…”

“Don’t mention it. I’d do it again.” She replied. They shook hands awkwardly, aware of the strangeness of this gesture. “Please, contact me if you need anything.”

Another nod. “Don’t worry.” Her lips curved into a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “After all, even Reapers didn’t manage to kill me.”

Miranda smiled back, though it was, just like Shepard’s, forced and held a faint hint of concern.


	2. Chapter 2

The coffee shop was one frequented often by diplomats and politicians. This would have been reason enough for Shepard to never step foot in there, but the discretion and anonymity was something that did not exist in other more “normal” cafes.

The place in itself was nothing overly special, though the asari owner would probably disagree. It was modernly, but tastefully furnished. The walls were of a creamy white, the furniture, the elegant column and the wall that separated the kitchen from the guests added the color to the place. They had both dextro and levo food on the menu, but none of the plates were extravagant or noteworthy like in other gourmet restaurants. The coffee and the cakes, on the other hand, were exquisite.

Shepard walked in slowly, returning the smile from the asari waitress with a polite nod, and sat down on her usual spot. It was in a corner to the farthest window and from where she had a perfect view to the door and to the center of the Citadel, without exposing herself to a potential assassin either.

Was she being paranoid? She really couldn’t tell. Besides, Garrus was just as bad as she.

Thinking of her husband, made her forehead wrinkle. She hadn’t heard from him in three days. They had gone without talking to each other for more than that, but never for that long since the end of the war. There had been a few times when they had been apart due to missions and other duties, but not without sending a short message to reassure the partner that they were alive instead.

But nothing.

“Would you like the usual, Commander?” the asari waitress asked kindly.

Shepard pretended to think about it. “Yes. But make the coffee black this time.”

“I’ll be back in a minute, Commander.” The asari hurried off to the kitchen and left the Commander to herself again.

Shepard was worried. And it irritated her infinitely, which was enticed with the effort she put in burying her own grief. It didn’t help that Garrus was on a highly clandestine mission in an unknown and very young world, far away from her help. She leaned on one elbow as she stared out of the window, watching, without really looking, people pass by the coffee shop in a hurry. Everyone was always busy, it seemed.

She sighed and wished she was busy too. The Alliance had offered her a small-risk mission on Illium, but she had rejected, thinking of the wellbeing of her unborn child, and instead accepted the Council’s assignment. 

Shepard clicked her tongue against her teeth at the irony and thanked the waitress as she placed her order on her table. Her hand went to the steaming cup as the door opened and a familiar, blue asari walked in.

It was Liara.

Her friend beamed at her and her pace quickened. Shepard stood up from her seat and reached out as she was engulfed in a warm embrace. Unwillingly, she stiffened, a reaction that did not go undetected by Liara, but didn’t react to it. The two women parted and took their seats across each other, both grinning widely.

“Shepard, it’s so good to see you!” Liara said with her usual calmness.

“You mean in person? Or in comparison to the information you keep track of?” Shepard grinned when her friend responded with an aggravated eyeroll.

“I regret being happy to see you. Seriously…” Liara shook her head and waved at the asari waitress, who came prancing to their table. “A latte macchiato and an Illium cake, please.”

Ever since she had first tasted the hot drink on her second stay on Earth (this time in Verona, Italy), Liara was addicted to it. She moaned, her eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as the first taste of the delicious hot drink touched her tongue. She lowered the long glass with reverence. “Goddess…” she rasped. “I can’t imagine a life without this… but back to your teasing…” She smiled wickedly. “You would be shocked what information just got in about a certain… krogan.”

Shepard had never been one to enjoy gossip. She’d been victim of it many times. That changed when her best friend became the Shadow Broker and delivered her with information amusing enough to talk about. It wasn’t gossip if it was true anyway.

“Grunt? Please tell me it’s Grunt”, she said.

“Of course it’s Grunt. But Wrex has some things on his search history that uh… could be useful for future bribe.”

Shepard grimaced, her imagination working against her. “I don’t want to know.”

Liara smiled mysteriously. “Don’t worry. I can’t tell you.”

“So, what about Grunt? Is it Hemingway again?”

The asari shook her head, pausing momentarily to worship the latte macchiato, before continuing. “No, but he has been watching horror movies and I’m not sure how… wise that is. To let a _krogan_ watch movies about _monsters killing people_.”

Shepard waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, Grunt is smarter than that.”

Her friend raised an eyebrow. “There have been recent studies that- oh, never mind. Grunt has a new favorite animal.”

“It’s not a shark.”

“No.”

“I suspect it’s not a thresher maw either or I would’ve heard of it.”

“No. And thank the Goddess for that!”

“Hmm…” Shepard raised a hand in defeat. “Tell me”

“The kangaroo!” Liara giggled.

Shepard opened her mouth, then closed it again. She stared at her friend, searching in her shaking figure (she was trying to contain her laughter) for any sign of deceit. Her eyes widened.

“You are joking, right?”

“No! He has been reading books about them and their environment for a couple of months now, even watched documentaries about kangaroos and everything. He’s even been corresponding with a zoo to buy one!” Liara shook her head in amusement. “I even read an e-mail from Wrex threatening him to bash his head into the ground if he asked one more time for a kangaroo-banner.”

“A kangaroo?” Shepard’s shoulders dropped. “I… I don’t know what I expected. I expected him to like the kraken and not a kangaroo!”

“I have heard they are pretty feisty,” Liara commented.

She shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s a wild animal. What reaction do you expect if a human approaches one with a camera?”

“Does that make you one? I mean, you have been pretty aggressive last time Al-Jilani asked you a question.”

Shepard gave her a wry glare. “Bringing that up again?”

Liara chuckled, raising her hands in defense. “Sorry, sorry. I know I promised.”

The two friends drifted into a comfortable silence as they concentrated on finishing the food on their plates. Shepard, who had started earlier, finished first and watched her friend.

The silence didn’t last long at all. But in these short five minutes Shepard had enough time to be pulled away from the present moment and right into unwelcome thoughts. Without noticing it, Shepard’s smile faded and the warmth left her green eyes and was replaced by profound sadness. It was a concerning look, an expression that distracted Liara from the pleasure of drinking latte macchiato. She had seen that look before on Shepard. She had seen it in Shepard’s eyes in quiet moments during the Reaper War and almost constantly after she had awoken from the coma. There had been even a while when Liara and Garrus had been scared for Shepard, afraid that the savior of the galaxy could not save herself from the pit she had fallen into.

Depression and post-traumatic stress, the doctors and psychiatrist, everyone really, had said. There was medication that allowed the victim to function more or less, but none that would cure it indefinitely. It was, as it was descripted in many cultures from all over the galaxy, a disease of the soul.

Liara put her fork aside and looked, really looked at Shepard. They hadn’t seen each other in a while, but talked regularly. She doubted it was Garrus’ absence that made her feel this way. Something else. The asari frowned, had Shepard mentioned anything? With guilt, Liara realized that she couldn’t remember much of their most recent conversations. Shepard had been quite… reserved in the last couple of weeks.

With a deep breath, Liara reached forward and shook her friend lightly.

“Shepard?”

The Commander started, but it was a reaction that the fewest people would have noticed. A small smile quivered on her mouth.

“Liara?” Her smile faded and her face hardened as she saw the intensity in her friend’s eyes.

Being on the other side of Liara’s intensive gaze felt like looking into a nebula. Bottomless, captivating and scary at the same time. She wondered what her friend saw in her. Nonetheless, Shepard refused to break it and met her eyes with the stubbornness of an ox. Liara’s eyes narrowed and she leaned back. Her expression shifted. Shepard saw suspicion, but was relieved when her friend let it go. A blue hand reached out for hers.

“Is everything alright Shepard?” she asked kindly. Her concern was evident.

Shepard smiled and slipped her hand from her hold.

“I’m fine,” she said.

Liara’s lips twisted at the corners and when she finally returned her smile, it was forced.

Shepard felt a sense of foreboding. Being friends with the Shadow Broker meant that the advantages of the relationship were at the same time disadvantages. If she gave Liara enough reason to be worried, she would certainly start digging into Shepard’s life. If she wanted to know, then Liara would find a way to get the information. 

_Why are you so afraid of Liara finding out?_

_Because it’s nobody’s fucking business!_

Shepard finished her coffee. “Have you heard anything from Garrus?” she asked, licking her lips as she lowered the empty cup.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to keep track on you two,” Liara replied with a raised eyebrow. She swallowed the rest of her drink.

Shepard answered with an eyeroll. “You earn your money by playing voyeur, Liara.”

The asari laughed and covered her face. “It’s – it’s not like that! Shepard, you – you make it sound so… I am not a…” She lowered her voice, her eyes darting back and forth from Shepard’s face to the other guests. “… a voyeur!”

“I don’t know, Liara…” Shepard said, pretending to be pensive. “I saw your workplace and-”

“I knew I would regret showing you the base!” Liara cried out, joining in on the laughter.

They shared this moment for a while, laughing with and at each other. Eventually though, Shepard sobered again, her mind and body back on her job.

“I’m serious, Liara,” she said, leaning forward on her chair. “I know you know about his mission. I know your agents keep you up-to-date.”

Liara folded her hands on the table. “Maybe I do know something.”

“I’m not asking for much. I wouldn’t abuse your position like that. But Garrus hasn’t called in three days, Liara.”

Liara frowned, but didn’t interrupt.

“And I wouldn’t be worried, but he hasn’t messaged me either. And it’s not like him to keep me worried.” Shepard took a deep breath and reached out to cover Liara’s hand with her own. She pressed it lightly. “Please. You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it worthwhile worrying.”

There was silence, while the Shadow Broker mulled over the request.

“How much do you want to know?” she asked finally.

“How much do you know?” was Shepard’s return.

“Well… I know a lot.” She eyed her carefully. “But I need to know exactly what you need.”

Shepard nodded. “We should talk in my apartment,” she suggested, waving at the waitress to pay the bill. “It’s safer there.”

*

Shepard’s eyes glanced over to her bedroom, her heart slowing to a comfortable beat as she saw that the door was shut.

“Sorry that my apartment is so messy,” she said with a hint of embarrassment as she stuffed the used plates and glasses into the washer. “It’s just- I didn’t really have the time to-” She hastily grabbed two clean glasses and a bottle of her favorite apple juice (made in Germany).

Liara smiled and sat on a chair at the end of the table. She took out her datapad and placed it before her.

“It’s alright, Shepard. I don’t mind.”

She really didn’t. And she didn’t miss the worried glance Shepard gave the door to her bedroom.

“I know, I know. It’s just, we rarely have any visitors and with Garrus now gone… I’m sometimes out on missions, and Miranda won’t stop bothering me about-” Shepard gasped a deep breath. Her knuckles turned white, her hands trembling as she placed the glasses and the drink on the table.

Liara’s eyebrows narrowed in concern. Her hand wandered over to her friend’s, but the offer of comfort was rejected.

“Is it the psychotherapy again? I thought you were making progress?”

Shepard waved a hand, forced herself to smile and appear unaffected. “I’m done with it,” she answered matter-of-factly. “I only go once after every mission.”

Liara nodded slowly. “I heard your last mission didn’t go well”. She frowned as she tried to recall the details. She remembered that it hadn’t appeared to be a risky one, but it ended with violence and seven dead people. “That was two weeks ago, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah…”

“It wasn’t your fault what happened there,” Liara said, smiling softly at her friend. The smile faded into a sad frown. Shepard looked stubbornly at the opposite wall. “Shepard?”

“I know.”

“You couldn’t have known the Blue Suns would bomb the Shipping Warehouse in an attempt to destroy the evidence.”

Shepard smiled. She looked heartbroken. Liara wanted to reach out and hug her. To wrap her into her arms and tell her it would be alright. She could tell Liara anything. They were friends. Best friends.

Shepard flicked a rebellious red strand from her face. Hair was odd, Liara thought. And it was stranger that humans were the only sentient species to have it.

“Let’s start with the questions,” Shepard said as she filled their glasses with apple juice.

Liara smiled gratefully. “You wouldn’t have anything to make latte macchiato, wouldn’t you?”

The other woman rolled her eyes, a smirk dancing on her lips. “Liara, I think you’re overreacting with it. It’s really not that special.”

Her eyes widened even more. “How…” She shook her head unbelieving. “How can you…”

“Anyway… Maybe it’s best if I tell you what I know, and then you can fill in the blanks,” she suggested.

“Garrus didn’t tell you everything?” That was unexpected.

Shepard shook her head. “It’s a top secret mission. Garrus is there under a fake mission, you know?”

“I know.”

“And with how tense things are down there…” Shepard gulped down her drink and shrugged a shoulder. “We couldn’t be sure we weren’t being spied on.” She smiled knowingly, her eyebrow raised.

Liara flushed and traced the rim of the now empty glass with the tip of her finger. “It’s… you make it sound so… _Shepard!_ ”

“That’s why I don’t know all the details. I’ve been following the media, but they’re biased as usual or know less than I do, so… what’s the point?”

“But anyway…” she continued after refilling her glass and swallowing the content with one go. “I know things are worse than they expected. The turians and volus and humans hate the krogan and want them gone, dead if possible, and the krogan want the entire colony for themselves, the turians drowned in the Water Devil-”

“Water Demon”. Liara took another gulp from the sweet human drink.

“-and the others either complacent or gone or dead.” Shepard raised her arms as if saying ‘tough luck’ and lowered them again. “Anything you’d like to add?”

“You summed it up very well,” the asari commented laudatory. “That’s basically it. One of my agent saw a few salarians corresponding with the krogan. Something else?”

“Garrus claims that the red leaves are delicious.”

Liara laughed. “That’s what my agent said as well!”

“There’s something else…” Shepard said, gauging Liara’s reaction. “Garrus didn’t mention anything. It’s more something he said between the lines.”

“I think I know what you’re going to say.”

She huffed a laugh. “I hope so, because I want confirmation.” Shepard sobered again. “People there have been talking about… krogan supremacists.”

Liara nodded.

“He also said something… he was struggling with a decision. His job is to get as much Intel on the krogan colony as possible and find the source of the unrest among them. Once he has it, he either waits long enough for further orders or, if he thinks the situation too risky, then he has orders to kill the source.”

“You think he’s found the source.”

Shepard inhaled deeply. “Yes.”

Liara licked her lips. “I think so too.”

The commander leaned closer. “What do you know, Liara?”

“The same as you,” she answered with a pensive frown. “Only with more details-”

“The devil lies in the detail. It’s a human saying,” Shepard added quickly.

“My agents have told me a lot about Prima, Rubrum in general. It’s a young world, so of course it attracts all kind of people.”

“Did you send them there to investigate?”

“I did send one as soon as the galaxy became more stable. Rubrum is a newly discovered world, unused, untarnished – or at least it was until the turians colonized it. Nothing of the reports during the first couple of years gave sign of danger, unless we’re talking about the Water Demon. But…”

“The problems started when the krogan settled there as well, didn’t they?”

The asari nodded slowly. “You’ve heard of it, of course.”

Shepard snorted. “The entire galaxy heard of it. What with the turians wanting them gone and the krogan refusing to leave-”

“I can’t believe they did,” Liara said amazed. “Krogan settling on a turian claimed planet…” She shook her head.

“I don’t understand why Wrex allowed this to happen,” Shepard sighed. “People are already scared enough of the krogan now that the genophage isn’t a problem anymore… I swear, if I hadn’t convinced Wrex to turn to the Council for help, he sure would’ve attacked the turians on Prima.”

“I’m not sure turning to the Council was such a good idea in hindsight,” Liara responded. “Their decision made a lot of people unhappy.”

“But it stopped a war.”

“It only delayed the inevitable,” Liara objected. “Things have gotten worse since the Council allowed the krogan to settle on Prima. You can’t deny that, Shepard”

“I’m not,” Shepard replied. She took a deep breath, then her hand slammed on the table. “How can you expect the krogan to become a part of our civilization if no one gives them a chance to prove that they can adapt? They can’t prove themselves, because everyone is constantly making them the scapegoat!”

“Shepard-”

“No, Liara! Every time the krogan do something people start to scream for their heads and I’m tired of it!” she yelled. “Last time I pointed this out to Garrus’ father he started to list every single crime the krogan have committed! How can anyone move past that if no one gives them a chance?”

“You’re right, Shepard. I’m sorry,” Liara admitted. “But it’s still no excuse for sacking the nearest villages and killing the people there”

Shepard recoiled with a wince. “I never said it was.”

“But you have to understand... they are doing what people were afraid they’d do once the genophage was cured.”

“I agree, but the situation on Prima has nothing to do with their growing population,” she objected. “Garrus mentioned something of-”

“It’s not only that. The Council’s involvement has only made things worse-”

“Well-”

“When the krogan conquered a city in Rubrum and the turians retaliated by bombing a krogan settlement, what did the Council do?” Liara asked and answered without waiting for Shepard to voice it. “They just gave the krogan what they wanted. They gave them three cities, Shepard. _Three_. The turians had to leave and settle somewhere else.”

Shepard crossed her arms. “They’re afraid,” she explained monotony. “As usual.”

The Council really didn’t make many friends that day.

Shepard wondered what was truly going on, what had made the situation escalate so badly.

“You can’t always rely on the Council,” Liara said. “Normally I would agree that settling disputes between two races through the Council is the best way, but not when it’s krogan and turians fighting.”

Shepard chuckled dryly. The asari didn’t notice.

“And you know that the Hierarchy is preparing the way to get rid of the krogan settlement. I mean, they’ve send your husband to Prima to investigate.”

Offended and angry at having lost what the turians saw rightfully as theirs, the Hierarchy had called the Primarchs to Palaven for a meeting. The topic, though it was held secretive, had been widely known and everyone assumed correctly that the center of discussion had been the current situation on Rubrum.

“Yeah…” Shepard breathed, fingers circling absently her wedding band.

Since the Hierarchy had called all the Primarchs to the turian homeworld, half a year had passed. It took them two months before Garrus was called to attend a secret meeting on Palaven.

The subject of the meeting had been so secretive even Shepard had not been allowed to enter at first. They had to concede to Garrus’ whishes (more like constant whining), though, and Shepard had been present for the second half of the meeting.

The goal was to gain as much Intel on the krogan colony as possible and find out who was spurring on the violence in the krogan. Once Garrus discovered the source, he was to inform the Hierarchy to discuss what to do next, but if he deemed the situation too dangerous to delay, then he was ordered to remove the threat.

Primarch Adrien Victus had explained that he was to go with a small team (consisting of maximal four members) and was to prepare for the mission for a month before travelling to Rubrum, where they would stay in Prima.

Garrus had agreed to do it. A month later he and Shepard had kissed goodbye on the docking bay.

Three months had passed since Garrus left for Rubrum and the Hierarchy had not exaggerated when they said that things were bad down there.

Since then Shepard had been alone, except for the small, inoffensive missions (except _that one_ , but she guessed that it didn’t matter. Not anymore.)

“I sent the last two agents to follow up on the disappearance of another stationed there. One of them was injured in a fight between both parties, so she was stuck in the city while her partner investigated outside.” Liara released a deep breath, giving her friend enough time to refocus. “Let’s just say that things are really complicated right now.”

“You sound as if getting involved would be the wrong thing to do,” Shepard observed. Her voice betrayed a mild tone of disapproval.

Liara’s brows rose faintly. “Shepard, a war between the krogan and the turians would be disastrous! Last time-”

“Yeah, I know what happened last time,” Shepard snapped. “Talus wouldn’t stop talking about it last time we went to visit.”

Liara placed her glass on the table. “Well, he has a point, Shepard,” she said. “But I suspect I’m a bit more neutral in this subject that your father-in-law.”

Shepard huffed sarcastically.

“The turians have the strongest, most advanced military in the galaxy. And the krogan are a force of nature, like you humans like to say. Imagine if these two races were at war with each other again. Everyone else would have to pick a side. And the Council too. This would lead to conflict between the races since everyone would want the respective councilors on their side!” Liara took a deep breath. “Nothing can compare to the Reapers, but if this conflict on Rubrum isn’t solved or at least contained to one planet, then it’s going to spread like a disease and we will have a galaxy at war again. And this time we’ll be fighting each other. Not a common and stronger enemy that is set to destroy us permanently.”

Shepard wiped a non-existent crumb from the table. “I agree with everything you said, Liara. The difference is that I’m convinced that if we _don’t_ act soon, that the situation will escalate and war will break out.”

Liara rubbed her temples. “Okay… so we agree to disagree.”

Her lips thinned. “It seems so.”

Uncomfortable silence followed.

“What happened to your agents?”

“Well… they continued to keep me up-to-date. Most of the attacks were kept from the public outside the planet, but I guess you already knew that.”

“Yeah.”

“The Primarch of Prima has been pushing the Hierarchy to send reinforcements-”

Shepard stiffened. “Really? Since when?”

“Ever since the attacks started. But the Hierarchy started paying attention to it once the two cities went to the krogan. They are waiting for Garrus’ final report, before they decide whether to move out or not,” she answered.

Her friend rubbed her eyes. “Okay… okay…” she muttered. “This is bad…”

Liara laughed, it was almost involuntarily and bordering to desperate. “Then you haven’t heard about the possible science facility where the krogan supposedly hold their captives.”

Shepard’s face shut up, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging slightly open. “The krogan are keeping prisoners? Garrus never mentioned any of it”

“That’s what my agent told me, but he wasn’t sure. He had to run or risk discovery, before he could come up with evidence. He wanted to return to the sight, but I haven’t heard anything from him since the connection was broken.”

“Broken? What do you mean it’s broken?” Shepard cried out.

Liara backed down in surprise. “It’s broken. Lost,” she repeated with a frown. “Didn’t you… I thought you knew when you told me you hadn’t heard from Garrus!”

Shepard pushed her chair away as she jumped to her feet. “Yes, but I thought he’d been injured or captured!” she yelled as she paces on the wooden floor. Her hands carded brusquely through her hair. “Shit! Since when? How did it happen? Has anyone tried to contact them through other means?”

“It happened two days ago,” Liara answered. “No one knows how it happened. The public doesn’t know, but the Hierarchy and Wrex and the Council have their best scientist analyzing it right now.”

Shepard scoffed. “Let me guess, they’ve got nothing.”

The Shadow Broker nodded dejectedly. She watched as her friend continued to pace across the room. Finally she stopped.

“That’s it,” she said and grabbed her jacket. “I’m going to the Council.”

Liara started in her seat. “You’re going _now_?”

“We’ve got no time to lose,” Shepard replied as she waited for her friend to pack her things. “They’ve got some explaining to do.” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have found out about this until much later if I hadn’t asked you. Dear God…” Her face fell and the trace of suffering was back again for a short moment, before it was buried beneath her leader mask. “I hope nothing bad has happened to him…”

Liara put a hand on her friend’s heaving shoulder. The elevator was slow to move. She offered her a hopeful smile.

“He’s survived worse. And he’s had you as an example. I’m sure he’s alright and trying everything to get back to you.”

Shepard smiled gratefully. The elevator blinked melodiously and the doors opened. The two women ran out of it and headed straight to the Rapid Travel Transport.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was difficult. It was "easy" to write, but when I re-read it the forth or the fifth time, I noticed a couple of... things that could have been done better. I tried to fix it as much as I could without having to re-write the entire thing, but.. oh, well. Everything that needed to happen, did happen. 
> 
> Besides, it's all built-up anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

“Why the hell was I not informed about this?!” Shepard asked. Her tone was calm, but in the words sizzled an angry storm.

“We were not sure if the broken connection was a temporary malfunction or an attempt to isolate the planet. This should not concern you, Commander.”

“I am goddamn Commander Shepard! I expect to be informed about _everything_ if it’s a threat to my family or the galaxy!” Shepard shouted, taking a dangerous step forward. The human councilor swayed, but stood his ground.

The turian huffed, growling under his breath. “There is no need to shout, Commander.”

“No need to-” Shepard shut her mouth and took a deep breath. Shouting and insulting the councilors would not help her. _Diplomacy_ , she thought. _Be diplomatic. That should work_.

“With all due _respect_ , councilor,” she said through gritted teeth and with a stiff face. “As a Spectre I am responsible to preserve galactic stability. By all means necessary. And the situation down there on Prima _is_ a threat to the galactic peace!” Unwillingly, her voice got louder and louder with each sentence. Shepard clenched her fists until her knuckles hurt and took another deep breath. She could see in the councilors’ faces that her yelling was annoying them. _These guys have too much power_ , she thought bitterly. _It’s getting into their heads. Makes them believe they’re untouchable, above any criticism or error_. It was the Reapers all over again. 

“Look, we all know how tough the relationship between krogan and turians is. It’s universally known. The Council can’t-”

“The Council has made a decision already,” the human councilor interjected. “Further involvement from our sides will only aggravate the situation.”

The salarian nodded in agreement. “There’s no talking to them. The Hierarchy and Urdnot Wrex are not interested in diplomacy.”

She crossed her arms. “I’ve dealt with worse. I can deal with them. If you will let me.” She met Liara’s eyes shortly, before turning her head back to the three councilors on the podium. “Look, I know Prima is very far away and small and not developed enough to play a significant part in the economy and whatever else you're interested in. You’re right when you say that the krogan and turians have been enemies since… since forever. But trust me, if you _don’t_ intervene the situation in Prima _will_ escalate and news will spread out that the krogan have lost control and then, trust me, things will escalate again. People are already scared of the krogan.”

“We agree with you, Commander,” the asari said. “It is only your perspective we don’t agree with.”

“So you’re not giving me this mission?”

The asari’s lips formed a thin line. “This was never a mission to begin with. We believe that it’s the wisest choice to leave the two races to deal with this problem on their own. There’s no need to get the rest of the galaxy involved yet.”

“I repeat, you are not sending me on this mission?”

“No, Shepard,” the asari answered with an exasperated sigh. “This is not a mission. The Council does not allow you to get involved.”

The turian felt the need to add: “From this point on, the Council will not be responsible for your actions involving Prima. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Shepard snapped politely, gave a curt bow with her head and turned around swiftly.

The alien councilors exchanged confused glances, only the human rolled his eyes, but didn’t bother to explain the expression.

Liara, who up to that point had stayed silent, but carefully watched the conversation unfold, followed her friend, having to quicken her pace to keep up with her stride.

“Shepard, wait!”

But Shepard only ignored her. She slammed the door shut behind her and punched the button of the elevator. Liara packed her datapad into her bag and stormed after her, managing to squeeze herself between the rapid closing doors of the elevator.

“Shepard…”

Jane turned with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her face was a mask of restrained fury and cold determination.

This was not a good sign. Liara had seen this expression on her face more times than she could remember. She had charged a Reaper with that expression. Half of the galactic population was scared to death of that look. And the other half had never seen Shepard.

“Are you coming with me?” Shepard asked.

Liara blinked in surprise. “Where?”

A muscle twitched underneath her jaw. “To save Garrus’ ass,” she responded. “And keep the galaxy from sinking into another war while we’re at it.”

Liara groaned as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Shepard…”

“If you don’t want to come with me then just say so. Don’t waste my time any more than necessary.”

Oh, that was her “stern-commander-voice”. It had been directed at her only rarely, but Liara remembered every single one.

“Of course I’m going you!” Liara cried out indignantly. “But that’s not what I wanted to say.”

Shepard raised her eyebrows and left the elevator as soon as the doors started opening. Liara followed.

“Look,” Liara said with an effort to stay calm. “Do you really want to go against the Council’s wishes again? You remember how hard it was the last time they refused to cooperate.”

“Yeah, I still got things done.”

“Yes, of course, but…” Liara shook her head. “I fear that getting too involved in this case could do more harm than good, Shepard.”

The two women stopped. Shepard had her arms crossed again and studied her friend silently, her face as unreadable as her eyes were expressive. The commander was not happy.

“Not getting involved was never an option for me, Liara," she said. Then she added more coldly, “If I hadn’t done what was necessary the last few times when the Council didn’t support me, then there would be no galaxy anymore. The Reapers would’ve won.”

“Shepard, the krogan and turians have been enemies since longer than even asari can remember! And it’s going to take at least as much time to make them reliable allies. This is different from the Reapers. They were a common enemy. Batarians fought side by side with humans, krogan defended Palaven. Miracles do happen when there’s no other way. But this… this is different.”

“Yes, it is. But the result will be the same if everyone stays out of it,” Shepard interjected, turning to continue her walk to the taxi stands. “War and death. If the conflict between these two races isn’t confined, solved on Prima, then it’s going to spread and people are going to die again.”

Liara sighed and sat down beside the other woman. She sighed again. Shepard was right of course, and Liara trusted her. But still… “You’re bonded with a turian, Shepard,” Liara reminded her.

Shepard rubbed her forehead and placed her elbows on her knees. “I haven’t forgotten about that.”, she replied quietly.

The Shadow Broker frowned briefly. She was reminded again that Shepard was not well. She suspected something (maybe Garrus’ sudden silence) had set her health progress back. Liara swallowed, looking out of the window as she thought what to do. She had promised Jane not to pry into her private life, to leave her alone. But if her friend wasn’t feeling well, was it wrong to do a bit of research? Liara could feel the heavy weight on her soul, it was visible in the fleeting moments between silence and words. What had Shepard said in the café before?

“I’m going to meet the Hierarchy,” Shepard interrupted her trail of thought.

 _You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it worthwhile worrying._ That’s what Shepard had said before.

Of course, her friend hadn’t _directly_ allowed her to look into her life. Of course. But… she _did_ tell Liara to find out what had happened to Garrus. By whatever means necessary, she had said.

“Do they know you’re coming?”

Shepard chuckled. She lowered her eyes and Liara was hit again by how exhausted her friend looked.

“Of course not,” she answered, straightening up again. “But since when has that ever stopped me.”

Whatever means necessary. If Shepard was ill, dangerously ill, then Liara had to know. They were friends. She was Garrus’ friend and as such, she was responsible to make sure both were alright. If Shepard wanted to save Garrus and the galaxy she had to be in perfect condition to combat.

Liara turned her datapad on and, after a long moment of hesitation, began typing. She glanced over at her friend, who sat with her back straight and her eyes fixed on the seat in front of her. Her green eyes were glassy.

She had no choice, but it didn’t make any of it easier.

She only hoped Shepard would forgive her.

*

The preparations to leave the Citadel took two days. An impressive feat, in Shepard’s opinion. The first thing she had done after she returning to her apartment was to call Joker and Samantha Traynor to ask if they were available. Afterwards, once she had the confirmation of their participation in this... mutiny against the Council, she had given the order to call on the rest of their crew. Those, who were unavailable were to be replaced. 

As soon as the alarm clock rang Shepard jumped out of bed (instead of the slow dragging from the last couple of days), washed herself, had a short breakfast and met Liara downstairs.

The two friends didn’t bother with long greetings; they had seen each other the day before and would be together until the mission was over. Shepard only carried her old bag, a memory from her Alliance days, with only the bare necessities and a crime novel in the unlikely case she got bored. Liara on the other hand had two relatively large suitcases with her. It wasn’t surprising, though. The Shadow Broker needed her instruments to keep her business running and the galaxy from falling further apart.

Jane took a deep breath. It was a new day and, to her, it felt like a new beginning. Finally, there was something to do.

“Is the Normandy prepared to head out?”

“You’ll have to ask Joker,” Liara answered lightly as they walked out of the elevator. “I only booked the flight, you know? I’m sure the crew has been called to the Normandy already.”

Shepard nodded in concentration as they dodged the oncoming traffic of people headed the other direction.

“I hate rush hour!” she shouted, dragging her travel back behind her.

“It’s not so bad!” Liara panted. A man collided against her, but continued walking without looking back. “Umpf! You should see Illium during the rush hour. It’s impossible to get anything done there! It’s also when most accidents happen.”

Shepard laughed and Liara joined in. 

“Will the Council be a problem?” she asked while they walked up the stairs.

“Well… we can’t count on their support, but they won’t get in our way either,” Shepard answered as she shouldered her bag.

“They must be just as interested in seeing this whole thing unfold as everyone else," the asari mused.

The Normandy stood proudly waiting at the dock. Its colors reflected the light of the space station. At the distance, the two friends saw a few crew members stepping into through the airlock, their bags hung on their arms or strapped on their backs. 

"It's hard to believe she survived the Reaper war," Shepard sighed, her eyes glowing proudly. Her smile faltered a little as she remembered that EDI had not made it out of it without injury. The commander straightened her stance and headed up to her ship. Her pace quickened the closer she got to her destination, but faltered as the curvy figure of a dark-haired woman stepped out of the shadows. Shepard heaved out a sigh, but her fingers only tightened their hold on her bag and she stomped stubbornly forward.

She wasn’t going to pretend to have missed her. She was Commander Shepard for God’s sake. No, she was going to go up there and listen to what Miranda had to say and then leave her behind. 

Miranda met her halfway to the airlock. The doctor had a suitcase with her. Shepard had the suspicion that she wouldn’t like what she had to say.

“I was waiting for you, Commander,” Miranda greeted her evenly.

“I wasn’t expecting you here, Miranda.” Shepard gave her suitcase a pointed look.

“You would have if you had answered any of my messages,” she replied with a haughty twitch of fine brows.

“I didn’t get your message,” Shepard lied bluntly.

Miranda arched an eyebrow. “All eleven of them?”

The other woman waved a hand impatiently. “How did you know I was leaving anyway?”

“I heard from my contacts that Rubrum went mute a couple of hours ago. You told me Garrus was on a secret mission. You weren’t answering any of my messages and then I heard you stormed out of the Council.” She shrugged. “I’m smart, Shepard. I’m disappointed you thought I wouldn’t find out.”

“Yeah, well…” Shepard licked her lips. She gestured at her waiting ship. “I’m leaving and you can’t stop me.” With a fake, wide smile Shepard gave her a parting nod and moved past her.

“I’m not here to stop you,” Miranda called after her and the tone made both Liara and Shepard stop in their tracks. “I’m here to join you.”

Shepard whirled around, her eyes blazing and wide. “You’re _what?”_

Behind her, Liara frowned in confusion. She wasn’t well acquainted with the scientist, but she trusted Shepard’s judgement. The two women had been on friendly terms since the Collectors and as far as the asari knew, the two of them had met often in the past few months. The Shadow Broker’s frown deepened. Her mind began to work harder. She was missing a piece of a puzzle.

“No, you’re not,” Shepard said  violently after Miranda repeated what she’d said before. Liara gave her friend a surprised look.

Miranda, on the other hand, remained impassive. “Shepard, if you don’t let me on your ship I will simply follow you on another.”

“No.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I am your doctor, Commander,” she reminded the upset patient. She was speaking dangerously calm. “And if you don’t let me join I will make the Council and the Alliance pull back your permit to travel around the galaxy, I will call the krogan that you're on your way to take a colony away from them. You'll have a very hard time fighting your way through.”

Liara stared at the human with wide eyes. She had not expected that kind of reaction. It seemed that Shepard had been hit by this threat as well. Her lips thinned, the wrinkle between her brows deepened.

“And since when have I cared about those things, huh?” She put a hand on her hip. “I’m Commander-”

“You’re more than just that,” Miranda interjected heatedly. “Shepard, you’ve been through a…” Her words caught in her throat as she spotted Liara. She had forgotten the asari. Her eyes wandered over to Shepard, who crossed her arms.

“Liara, leave us alone please.”

Liara wouldn’t dare to disobey the commander when she used that tone. She disappeared behind the airlock.

“Now talk!”

Miranda sighed. “You can go wherever you want Shepard, but I’m going with you.”

“Why?”

“Because you went through-” She looked around, aware that they were not the only people on the dock. She lowered her voice. “You had a miscarriage, Shepard. And you’ve been suffering from PTSD and depression for years since the war ended and you are still recovering and your husband is missing-”

Shepard stopped her with a raised finger. “He is not missing.”

“You have to expect the worst,” Miranda pointed out. “Something must have happened to break the connection between Rubrum and the rest of the galaxy. Whatever happened, I’m sure – and I believe you think so too – Garrus was somehow involved.”

Shepard inhaled deeply, her mind wandering shortly to Garrus, then back to the present. “I don’t need your help,” she hissed after a short moment of silence.

The scientist laughed contemptuously and shook her head slightly. “Fine,” she said coldly. She straightened her back. “Shepard, if you don’t let me on your ship I will cause a scene.” When the other woman only glared, Miranda took a deep breath and called out loudly: “Shepard, I said-”

“Fine!” the commander snapped furiously. She fisted her bag again and turned, dragging it behind her, not caring about it getting dirty. She looked back to Miranda, who was following her very closely. “But if you tell anyone-”

“I’m a professional, Shepard!” Miranda hissed back, climbing through the airlock after the her. “There’s something called medical confidentiality, you know?. I can’t even tell Garrus. So you better tell him once you got him back!”

Shepard scoffed, ignoring everything the other had just said and stormed past the crew members in the command center. Her annoyance was rolling off her in waves and they stepped aside immediately as their commander passed by them. She stepped into the elevator and rolled her eyes when Miranda followed.

“I’m settling my stuff in Dr. Chawkas office,” Miranda informed her, a hard edge to her voice. “I’m sure she’ll have some space for me to work on.”

Shepard opened her mouth, but closed it again. It wasn’t worth an answer.

Her previous good mood, the excitement at the prospect of a new mission, the sweetness at seeing the Normandy again, had vanished.

It was all Miranda's fault.

_Miranda_

_Miranda, the doctor._

The owner of a medical facility that specialized in reproductive health.

Miranda, the only one who knew and who would not stop bothering her, harrassing her to face what didn’t need any confrontation.

She hated her. She really did.

Why the woman was so insistent with Shepard’s case, the Jane couldn’t tell. She didn’t care if she was being honest. She wanted the scientist away from her. But she couldn’t send her away now; not if she wanted to cause a scene or raise suspicion among her crew members. And everything had to run smoothly for the mission to succeed.

Shepard sighed, felt Miranda’s eyes on her. There was nothing said during the elevator ride. And when the doors opened in the crew deck, Miranda walked out without looking back. Shepard couldn’t tell if she was upset or relieved.

*

Shepard called a meeting as soon after she had dropped her bag in her cabin. She did her rounds as usual, checking in on her crew, before returning to the War/Conference room and called a meeting in an hour. That gave the crew and herself time to adjust to the new journey and gather their thoughts on the mission. She had overheard a few conversations among her crew. They had questions, suspicions and most of their theories were rather accurate for something that everyone in a higher position of power had tried to keep secret.

Her ship had not changed much since last time. They had added better lighting to the command deck to which Jane was very grateful. The darkness there had always given her the sensation that it was very late, making her body believe it was tired. Her cabin looked the same as well; only her fish were gone.

Now she stood in the former War Room, at the same spot where Primarch Victus and later Admiral Raan had before, and enjoyed the brief moment of quiet before her crew entered.

She had used the hour to collect her thoughts and update the newsfeed. The governments were still holding tight on anything concerning the Rubrum topic, but even their desperate grip was letting the news seep through, and judging by the amount of comments on articles that dwelled on the recent lack of connection on Rubrum’s part, people were getting anxious to the point where they were being completely irrational. With a deep sigh, Shepard recalled one commenter stating that curing the genophage had been a grave mistake, and another, where the user asked for a law to forbid krogans from entering Citadel space. This had evidently led to a heated argument between commenters who agreed and people, who were alarmed and rose to defend the krogan or at least try to find a more diplomatic solution.

As Shepard checked the clock, she reprimanded herself for reading the comment section yet again. She always forgot how exhausting that could be.

She brushed a strand from her face and rubbed her cheek, frowning. Her mind was in full motion, focused on the mess she was leading her crew into. Truly, she had yet no clue how to solve this issue and was afraid to opt for the violent approach. Contrary to Liara’s impression, Shepard was aware how delicate her own situation was. She belonged, after all, to a turian family and an important one no less. At the same time, she could not forget her responsibilities as a Spectre and Alliance soldier. She had a duty, not only to her family, but also to the galaxy and to humankind. If a war was inevitable, in the unlikely likely case a war broke out, the turians and krogan would be at the frontlines, then the rest of the galaxy would join. The question remained, who would side with whom?

She could not possibly fight against her own people.

She could not lose Garrus either.

What would she tell her crew? The truth obviously. But what was the truth? What had Garrus said years ago? _"It's so much easier to see the world in black and white. Grey...I don't know what to do with grey."_ She laughed inwardly at how accurate that was.

Jane’s attention was diverted from her thoughts and to the members of her crew began gradually to fill the room. Clearing her throat, she straightened, shaking off her thoughtful posture and replacing it with the mask of a commander.

“Hey Commander!”

Shepard smiled, her eyes crinkling with fondness as Vega punched her arm good-naturedly.  She rubbed her arm.

“I see we still got to work on your punches,” she teased.

James laughed and waved her off. “Was just testing the waters, Lola. Didn’t want to hurt you before the rematch.”

“I accept the offer and am looking forward to beating you again,” she said with exaggerated humility.

“Alright! Now that everyone’s present-”

“Don’t you want to check the list first or…?”

“Are we back in kindergarten or what?” Joker ribbed at Vega. But before the latter got any chance to give his own smart-ass reply, Shepard called for order with clearing her throat.

“Sorry, Lola”

“Yeah, not really,” Joker snickered and fell silent.

Shepard shook her head, her lips twisting into an amused smile and turned to her crew. It was strange, she thought as she gazed at each member. All but one were human. She was so used to having her turian at her side that his absence left a gaping void where he should have stood.

“Is everyone present?” she asked.

“Yes, Commander,” Traynor piped up. “I’ve checked before joining you in the War Room.”

“Happy, Vega?”

She got a smug shrug as an answer.

The Commander nodded. “Okay, now that the – uh – administrative stuff is done, let’s move on to the real reason why I called you here.”  

She cleared her throat and took that short break to study them.

“I’m sure you’ve already heard that a couple of days ago, Rubrum went mute and since then no one has been able to contact the planet.”

A few nodded, everyone looked grim.

“This is bad, not only because it proves that the situation down there is much worse than we initially suspected, but also because there’s a real possibility of a war breaking out between the krogan and the turians, and spreading across the galaxy.”

“There are real people living on Rubrum; turians, krogan, salarians, asari, humans… people’s lives are at stake. That’s nothing new really, only that this time it’s not a synthetic, evil, unknown force behind this, but ourselves.” Shepard took a deep breath.

“Before we set out, though, and save the galaxy again, I need to inform you that we’d be committing mutiny – again – by leaving the Citadel with the Normandy. We don’t have the permission. The Council has not given me the order to fix this mess. I’m leaving one way or the other, because I am personally involved. You don’t have to follow me. If you do, no one will blame you. But if you stay, you won’t be able to return to the Citadel without facing criminal prosecution.”

Shepard paused to give them time to mull over the information. A minute passed, but no one stirred. A wave of gratitude filled her chest and she smiled weakly.

“What’s our first stop?” Vega asked suddenly.

“Palaven,” Shepard answered quickly. She crossed her arms and proceeded to explain the situation to her crew.

“My plan is to get the support of the Hierarchy.” She lifted her shoulders nonchalantly. “Shouldn’t be that difficult considering that it’s their colony we’re talking about,” she muttered quietly. Her voice rose. “Then, once that’s done, we’ll head to Tuchanka and talk to Wrex and Bakara. If we want to prevent this conflict from culminating, then we’ll need both parties on our side. I expect that will be difficult,” she said with a wry grin.

Liara took a step forward. “And once that’s done, we’ll continue our way to Rubrum, isn’t it?”

Jane assented. “To Prima to be precise. That’s where Garrus and his team have been stationed.” She swallowed and added, “That’s also where the Primarch of Rubrum resides. We’ll need him, too.”

Vega raised a hand. “What’s Scar’s mission?”

“That’s – uh – classified. He was sent there to gather Intel. And remove the threat if chance allowed it. According to him there’s been a rise of violence against turians. Garrus is convinced that somebody’s is leading them.” She smiled ruefully. “We’ll know more once we’ve talked with Victus.”

Her words were followed by a brief moment of silence. Finally, Shepard exhaled slowly and raised her voice again.

“I hope you’re all aware how _delicate_ the situation is. We’re talking about turians and krogan here, both are terrible and stubborn. I don’t expect either of them to give in to the other’s conditions.”

She watched them as she paused to take a breath. There was no surprise. Only apprehension and concern. Even annoyance. “The success of our mission depends on how diplomatic we are with the Hierarchy and Wrex. The time to use a more… aggressive approach will soon come anyway, so you won’t be bored for too long.”

There were a few chuckles, but the tension in the room stayed high.

“Any questions?”

“No, Commander!”

She nodded. The questions would surely come later during her rounds.

“We’re headed towards Palaven. The Hierarchy wants to meet us. I’ll tell you two hours before landing who’ll join me on the ground team. Until then I expect everything to run smoothly. No sparring, unless you can’t dispel your excessive energy otherwise.”

“Do you expect any trouble from the turians, Commander?” Traynor asked.

Shepard sighed deeply. “I’ll be ready for disappointment. It’s more likely that way to be positively surprised.” She chuckled inwardly. Something similar had Garrus told her during the fight with the Collectors.

Dear God. She missed that guy. His quips were dearly missed.

“They do have more reason to help us,” she added almost as an afterthought. “It’s their colony that’s under attack and with the Council refusing to get involved… I expect them to be more cooperative than the krogan. Does the answer satisfy you, Traynor?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

Miranda spoke up over the noise the others made at leaving. “Shepard, any news on the quarians’ progress with EDI?”

At with this innocent question, everybody froze on the spot and turned expectantly to the commander.

Shepard’s heart constricted heavily in her chest at hearing EDI’s name again. It was even more painful if one expected the AI to talk through the speaker.

“I haven’t heard anything, Miranda,” she answered slowly. “Last thing I heard, was that they’d manage to bring back her basic functions, but she has yet to show signs of…”

“Of life?” Liara looked sad and turned her gaze away with a faint sigh.

“But if there’s anyone who could bring her back its Tali,” Shepard hurried to say. Hell if she was going to close this meeting with such a somber mood. Why did everything had to end so badly?

It was Miranda's fault.

Liara met her eyes. She hesitated, but finally, a small smile graced her blue features. She gave her friend a grateful nod and left the room, together with the rest of the crew.

-

“That was one happy speech, Commander,” Joker said later as she entered the cockpit. “Reminded me of the old times.”

Shepard grinned and gave the cockpit a nostalgic look over. “I see nothing has changed here…”

“Then you should go to your cabin. They took away your aquarium. Used the money to acquire newer beds for the crew.”

She laughed, biting off the urge to slap him jokingly on his shoulder. “Liar! Next stop, I’ll buy some fish again.”

Joker barked out a laugh. “Oh come on! It’s not as if you used it that often! Why have an aquarium, when you could have a… a hamster or a snake or something?”

She grimaced. “Nah.”

The pilot arched a brow. “The fish are going to run away when they see you, Shepard.” He shook his head. “Hell, has anyone even survived the week?! That’s a rare gift… none of your pets survived the tank…”

Shepard’s smile stiffened. Whatever she wanted to say, got stuck in her throat and seconds later she forgot. She reached forward and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. Joker looked up in surprise.

“It’s good to see you again, Joker,” she said earnestly and averted her eyes when he tried to meet them.

Joker smiled. “Don’t worry, Commander,” he said, mistaking her bad mood for worry. “We’ll get Garrus back and kick ass again. Just like old times, you’ll see.”

Shepard returned the smile. It faded like sugar in water as she turned to leave.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it just me or are the chapters getting longer?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very proud of this chapter.

_Entering the new world Rubrum_

_Approx. 8:25 a.m._

_3 months before loss of connection_

*

Their shuttle was jumping violently as they passed through the atmosphere of Rubrum. The grey and cotton white clouds lifted and rose away like a red curtain to present the great view of the youngest turian colony.

Garrus didn’t belong to the type to recite poetry when confronted by beauty, but damn, if Rubrum wasn’t a sight to behold.

He’d heard of the unique tree species with red leaves that turned green, yellow and blue in autumn. They had seen pictures and read about those trees, but seeing them from above was an entirely different experience.

It was odd, that’s for sure. Garrus had never given it much thought, but now as he and his team were on their way to Prima, the capital city of the colony, it dawned on him how limited his imagination was. Working with Shepard had led him to visit many worlds with a wide variety of cultures, but they had all been very similar in their appearance.

Rubrum, at least from their point of view, was different. Red, a green so dark it looked almost black, and a dust of yellow smudged the landscape. Further north they could see the beginning of the mountain chain making its way south and splitting to the east and around Prima. They were too far away to see them, but there were two mines in the eastern mountain sides, where the workers dug night and day for gold. The land was, apart from the mountainous part and the colorful forests, mostly prairie. The planet showed signs of having been victim of meteorite impacts as the mostly untouched nature was marred by pretty large craters. These weren’t bothersome, though; it was there where the turians and other species had built their houses. Prima looked basically like a bunch of squares dropped into a bowl.

“We’ll arrive in approximately thirty minutes,” the asari pilot announced through the speaker. “The security has already given their clearance to land. Seems you’re being expected.”

In front of him, Syrus, a black turian with yellow colony markings from a middle class family, chuckled mysteriously, his mandibles clicking in amusement. Garrus couldn’t resist the sound that his own throat emitted, but he too was excited, although the mission was of a very delicate and serious nature. Calah, a fellow turian from Palaven with light brown plates and the delicate red markings that showed her to be of a family of the same caliber as the Vakarians, gave Syrus a wry look, before turning to the fourth and last member of their team.

“You look a bit pale, Tavis,” she noted with a light frown.

Garrus glanced at the youngest turian among them. “Have you taken the medication against airsickness, Tavis?” he asked calmly. He was aware that Tavis, as the youngest member of the team, had more to prove and any offer of assistance was a slight to his pride.

Tavis was young, had only recently turned 25 years old. He had fought first on his home colony in Aephus against Cerberus, before joining the turian fleet to face the Reapers on Earth. He had caught the attention of the Hierarchy during the Reaper War for his relentless pushing and refusal to give in and a type of endurance that even Shepard admired.

In Garrus’ opinion, he had done more than enough to prove himself and was convinced that, with proper guidance and patience, Tavis would be promoted quickly in the Hierarchy. There was still a lot he had yet to learn, though.

Tavis grunted, hands clutching the harness of his seat with an almost feverlike grip. Had he been in a better condition, he would’ve given Calah a smart-ass reply, but since he was not, he kept his mouth shut.

“Commander Vakarian asked you a question, Tavis,” Syrus admonished.

Syrus was a special case. He was a tease, but hated it when one didn’t uphold rank. If a superior asked you a question, you better gave him an honest and respectful answer.

A weak groan shook from within his throat, but Tavis forced himself to look at his commander. The hide of his neck was pale, his dark grey mandibles pulled tight to his face. Unlike his team partners, Tavis’ colony markings were simple and rough edged, almost like finger paint. Three blurry waves on each mandible and two stripes on his long fringe. It was a good thing that Tavis was very handsome and talented.

“I- I forgot, S-sir,” he stammered, subvocals thrumming pitifully.

Garrus sighed and reached beneath him. He handed the young man a paper bag.

“Just in case,” he added.

Tavis ducked his head in shame as he reached for it.

Syrus snickered. Tavis ignored him. Garrus hoped they’d get along. There had been no trouble during their training, but one could never know how things turned out on the battlefield.

He and Calah – the only mature ones in the group, it seemed – exchanged a dry glance, the woman flicking her right mandible in a manner that showed impatience. Garrus gave her a sympathetic nod.

It was then that their pilot spoke again.

“And on your left you will see one of the greatest and most dangerous sights Rubrum has to offer.”

“The krogan?” Syrus asked, drawing a laugh from the others, quickly followed by a moan from Tavis as he regretted the action and burrowed his face in the paper bag.

“The _Water Demon!_ Isn’t it a beauty?” the asari praised. “Look at the color, at the speed of the current!”

Garrus rolled his eyes and looked down to the left.

Truly, beauty depended of the eyes of the beholder or whatever Shepard had said. He heard Calah releasing a restrained whine from between her teeth.

“Wow,” Tavis whistled with an appreciative nod.

Garrus couldn’t quite find it in himself to agree and by the nervous clicking from Syrus’ mandibles, he knew that he was not the only one who mistrusted the large, proud river; _Water Demon_ was a very apt name.

“You might know it by -” The asari said something that vaguely resembled the word in turian for _Water Demon._ Calah squeezed her eyes shut and snickered at the wrongness of the sound.

It was not that non-turians couldn’t speak turian. However, the problem was not only in their pronunciation, but especially in their lack of subharmonics. A large part of their language relied on the sounds from their second larynx and the occasional clicking; without them the turian language simply sounded… tuneless.

“It is a pretty accurate name for it,” Syrus commented with a shrug and settled himself back on his seat. “Even with our distance I can see the speed of the current.”

Calah’s brow plates twisted questioningly. “How deep is it?”

“217 meters,” Tavis groaned from the bag. “Only about three meters less than the deepest river on the humans’ homeworld.”

Garrus flicked his good mandible, his throat vibrating with unmistakable pride. “Done your research I see.”

The young turian groaned as he attempted to grin at his superior.

“Stay in the bag,” Garrus warned. “We’ve avoided any accidents so far.”

Calah chuckled hollowly. “Yeah. Hundred credits that it will change the minute we land.”

“Two hundred that it happens while we’re talking with the Primarch,” Syrus said and reached out his hand. Calah shook it. The woman, obviously sure of her victory, turned to Garrus then.

“So what’s the plan, Commander?”

“Get to know the area as soon as we’ve talked to Primarch Latus,” Garrus answered promptly. “If everything goes well, then that’s all we’ll do today. Tomorrow we have a meeting with the military representatives-”

“Sounds like fun,” Syrus muttered and clutched the harness as the shuttle hit another wave of turbulence.

“They have a lot to explain,” Garrus said. “If there’s something they refuse to tell us, then we’ll move on to the outer perimeters that same afternoon.”

“And if they do tell everything?” Calah tilted her head to the side.

“Then we’ll go the morning after. Whatever happens, we’re not staying in Prima. As often the krogan have hit Prima, the real battle is being fought in the outer territories.”

The turian shook her head. “This is a big mistake on the military’s part,” she said with a frustrated rumble from her subvocals. “Of course, if Prima falls, then the war’s over, but it’s a grave mistake not to defend the outer territories, while we’re in the position to do so.”

“I agree,” Syrus said seriously.

Tavis looked up with brow plates comically drawn. Even Calah was surprised.

“You do?”

He shrugged with nonchalance. “Yes.”

She watched him suspiciously, but then shrugged as well and continued. “There’s not much the Hierarchy can do to draw the krogan away, now that the Council…” She growled lowly in disgust. “…has sided with the krogan.”

Syrus huffed in agreement, his mandibles flaring in unrestrained anger as he crossed his arms.

“I couldn’t believe it when I heard it,” he snarled. “Before and during the war, none of them would’ve sided with them. But now, all of the sudden, they decide to give in to the krogan’s demands?!”

“Unbelievable,” Tavis managed to growl.

Garrus sighed. “I know,” he said, and he really did. He had never liked the Council very much, but now…

“But this is important,” he reminded his squad. “Our mission is a secret one. No one but us, and the highest members of the Hierarchy know about it. The Council has nothing to do with it. We don’t depend on them. So whatever frustrations you have, save them for the battlefield. For now, let’s focus on what’s really important.”

He felt Tavis’ hesitation, before the young turian could speak up.

“Permission to speak freely, Tavis.”

Tavis’ mandibles twitched in surprise, but he relaxed quickly. “Thank you, Sir.” He cleared his throat as he mulled over how he wanted to say what he wanted to say. “Sir, you say we should focus on what’s really important. Our mission is to find as much Intel on these krogan as possible and report them to the Hierarchy so that they can decide what to do next. Sir, the next step is obviously war against the krogan for stealing our colony.”

“Sir, the Council will never approve of it. They will not side with us.”

Garrus took his time with the answer. And when he did speak, it was to ask a question.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Well, they’ve sided with them before, didn’t they? Not once, but twice! Sir.” Tavis took a deep breath. His mandibles twitched distressed as he reached for the paper bag again.

“That wouldn’t be a first, Tavis,” Garrus explained slowly. “The Council didn’t believe Shepard, when she told them about the Reapers.” He laughed disdainfully. “They only started listening when the Reapers were already there.” He wanted to add more, tell him about how reluctant they been after to give their full support to Shepard, how they had almost brought the galaxy to destruction in their vain, cowardly attempt to hide from the truth. But he didn’t.

He gave him a reassuring smile. “If we hand them the _right_ information, then regardless if their side with us or not, they won’t be able to call the other races to turn against us.”

He saw him digest his answer. A short moment of silence passed, but eventually Tavis nodded.

“Don’t worry yet,” Calah comforted him from her seat. “There are plenty of people who are scared of the krogan. I’m sure that, come the time, they’ll side with us as well.”

Garrus frowned. “You sound as if war is a done deal.”

Her nose twitched. “Well… commander, the situation does not look very optimistic.”

“I agree,” he said. “But until we have more information, you should try being optimistic anyway. I’ve met good krogan and you have as well, Calah. Let’s not rush into another war if we can avoid it.”

They passed into silence, frequently interrupted by the wheeze of Tavis’ subvocals every time the Shuttle jumped. Their minds were on the mission, their families, the Reaper War and all things they had lost.

Five years had passed since their victory, but unlike so many others in turian history, this one didn’t invite for celebration. The wounds were too fresh, the smell of ashes and blood, the taste of smoke and rock still in their tongue. The war was so recent that no movie had been made yet. People rarely talked about it. And people who did, were avoided. If an author wrote about the horrors of the Reapers he was ostracized.

Garrus hummed. The shuttle inclined as it prepared to land. It seemed they had returned to the same point as before the war. Previously, no one but a few had known about the Reapers. No one talked about them. And today no one mentioned the Reapers, because the wounds reached too deep. Would they be forgotten again?

No. Garrus shook his head inwardly. No. They would not be forgotten. The sacrifices of the brave would not be forgotten. Their sacrifices were recorded in the histories of their platoons for all to honor.  

*

_Present day_

_Normandy SR-2_

_Six days after the connection loss on Rubrum_

*

It was close to eleven in the morning when they arrived on Cipritine, two embarrassing hours later than scheduled.

“Kinda sad that we can’t run around without our helmets,” Vega mused as they walked out of the Cipritine’s main Docking Bay.

“Yeah, my scans are acting crazy, because of the radiation,” Shepard halted suddenly, uncaring of the people who bumped against her, and took everything in.

The place was crowded. As far as they’d been told, a group of young turians were on leave as they recovered from their first mission outside of their homes. Shepard studied them. They all had their facial markings already, some were taller than others, and there were more males than females. The young recruits rushed eagerly to greet their parents, who welcomed them once they met in the middle. The public display of affection was very restrained, most of the turians present opting for a handshake or a pat on the shoulder, but Shepard caught a few touching foreheads. The sight of this intimate gesture made her stomach flutter and warmth spread in her chest.

“I can’t tell which one of you is Commander Shepard, but I suppose it must be the one with the red and blue stripes.”

A wide grin split Jane’s lips. She recognized that voice. She turned around swiftly and walked to the female turian standing with a hand on her hip, being sidestepped by exiting passengers.

Shepard reached out her hand, her grin widening, when Solana Vakarian grasped it into her larger one and shook it.

“It’s good to see you, Sol,” she said with a fond smile.

Solana’s mandibles fluttered as she smiled at her. “I heard from Naxus that the coming squadron with the recruits delayed your ship.” She took a deep breath. She tilted her head to the side and smiled. “That’s what happens when you decide to travel to Palaven in early spring. That’s when all the kids come back to visit.”

Shepard chuckled, reached out to pat her arm fondly. “That information must have slipped my fingers. I didn’t know turians had vacations in early spring.”

“It’s worse during the winter.” She gave a shrug. “But anyway, I’m here to take you to the Primarch.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re late, so let’s hope they don’t keep you longer, too. Dad and I want you to have lunch with us,” Solana reminded her as she led the ground team out of the Docking Bay and to her car.

“Ah...” Shepard cast a glance at Liara, their gazes met, though they couldn’t see each other. She couldn’t say she was excited to have lunch with her husband’s family. She liked them very much, had grown fond of both of them over the years, but it felt like a waste of time, dangerously tempting fate, instead of immediately continuing their journey to Tuchanka to make Wrex see reason.

“We were planning on -”

“It’s just lunch, Shepard,” Liara objected quickly, before the human could reject the offer. “Enjoy the nice moments while they lasts.”

James nodded. “Yeah, we’ll be butting heads soon enough anyway. I bet you that once we’re on Tuchanka you’ll miss this.”

Shepard pursed her lips and glared at her friends. _Former friends_ , she decided in that moment.

The truth was, Shepard was afraid. Turians had a superior sense of smell. What if Gaius and Solana smelled her child?

She felt her spirit deflate as she corrected herself. And the changed question was more painful than the original one. What if they smelled she had… lost it? What if they asked questions? What would she tell them? What if they told Garrus? She scoffed, stopping her head from shaking from side to side. She was making no sense. She was being stupid, as usual; again.

Whatever she felt in that second, Jane drowned it without any compassion for herself.

By that time, they had reached the Vakarians’ car and one by one they crawled inside.

“Hey, cool. It’s bigger than ours,” James noted with approval. He was sat on the backseat with Liara, while their commander took her place on the passenger seat.

Solana released a sound that Shepard had learned to identify as embarrassed. “Shit! I’m sorry for the mess,” she trilled as she reached out to stuff the papers, pens and something that looked like an unfinished dextro-bar into the drawer.

Shepard waved her off. “It’s okay. You should see my apartment. I haven’t cleaned properly since Garrus left.”

She laughed in return, but it faded. The silence grew thick as both women worried over the same man.

“You haven’t heard anything either?” Shepard asked quietly, and was grateful that her companions pretended to be occupied with watching the rapidly passing landscape.

Solana clutched the wheel tighter, but her grip relaxed as she exhaled. “No,” she said, voice thin with worry. “I – uh – we were hoping you’d know something…”

Shepard looked out of the window. The reconstructions weren’t finished here either. Many houses, especially those which belonged to the less wealthy, were still a skeleton, a broken body. She felt much the same.

“I haven’t heard from him in five days.”

“Oh…”

Her forehead wrinkled. “He hasn’t called you?”

“He hasn’t called in two weeks,” Solana answered quietly. She was quiet for a moment, but whatever had crossed her mind, she quickly discarded it with a shake of her head. “I shouldn’t be bothered,” she growled bitterly. “It’s not like he called every day _before_ either…”

“I’ll talk some sense into him when I find him,” Shepard promised her firmly.

Solana chuckled. “Okay. But leave the ass-kicking to me. I’m his sister. It’s my duty to do that.”

There was a warm laugh from Shepard as she remembered how, two years ago, the two siblings had gotten into an argument and decided to take it outside. Their father had been unfortunate enough to be elected as the referee, but Shepard had never laughed that hard as she watched the two turians fight each other.

Garrus had won, by the way, and had not stopped bragging about it for the next two days, until his lovely sister reminded him of a certain event in his teenage years. It had been enough to shut him up.

That was another thing her turian had to explain. He had refused to tell Shepard any of it and successfully distracted her with his roaming hands.

Thinking of her husband inadvertently drove her thoughts into a less happy direction. She wondered where he was, if he was alright. He better be missing her as much as she was missing him.

She looked at Solana from the corners of her eye. Unsurprisingly, the turian looked just as worried, though her alien features concealed it better.

Turian expressions were harder to decipher since the plates left fewer place for movement, unlike with human or asari pliable skin. But once one got to really know them, reading their emotions became easier. It was a slow progress; a tiny flick of one mandible, a twitch of the jaw or the brow, a jerk or tilt of the head. Then, once one understood and recognized their expressions and gestures, the subharmonics became easier to identify as well. Of course, many of the sounds were too low for non-turians to hear, but many of them were of a “normal” volume. Watching turians argue with each other was a great learning method, too. Shepard recalled the conversations Garrus had had with his father or Solana, and that experience had been eye-opening to say the least.

Looking at her sister made her stomach twitch painfully. Solana missed her brother as much as Jane missed her husband, albeit in a different way. Solana had confessed to her how hard it had been with Garrus absent; the unbearable uncertainty whether he was ever going to return; the unresolved issues between her father and her older brother; their dying mother and if Garrus was ever going to see her again before she passed (luckily, he had); and then Solana’s growing resentment because so many opportunities had passed by her and she couldn’t take them, because someone had to keep their family together after Garrus’ disappearance.

Shepard sighed deeply. Solana looked away from the road and met her eyes briefly. She gave her a weak smile. Solana reached out and covered the human’s hand with her larger one. The commander’s lips tilted upwards at the corners and squeezed her hand in gratitude.

“We’re here.” Solana slowed the car to the required speed and stopped it before the control posts. “I… I’m sure everything will be alright,” she said, keeping her eyes glued to the soldiers patrolling the area.

“Victus likes Shepard,” Liara stated as she climbed out of the car. “He will help.”

“And you forget he has at least as much to lose as we do,” Shepard added. “He’s sure under a lot of pressure right now.”

Solana nodded. “Our colony is at stake…” She hesitated. “I’ll return in two hours, is that okay?”

Jane raised her shoulders. “Sure, why not? You may have to wait though. I have no idea how long the meeting will take.”

“What’s the worst that could happen? I’ll just wait here until you’re finished.”

Vega laughed. “Oh boy, you don’t know how missions usually turn out with Shepard if you said that.” The glare he got in response, left him pretty cold and he turned away with a bright grin.

“Ignore him…” she advised the female turian.

“He’s right, though,” Liara muttered behind her back.

Shepard’s jaw hardened, while she tried to keep her temper in check.

“Have fun, then,” the turian smirked and started the engine. “Oh, and-” She wiggled a finger at Shepard. “I know you don’t want to go to lunch. But don’t even try to get away from it, okay?”

And she was gone without another word.

Liara and Vega giggled behind Shepard’s back. They stopped immediately and pretended to be studying the architecture as their commander whirled around and stared at them with her famous glare.

“No comment,” she growled.

*

The Hierarchy was more than happy to receive Commander Shepard. The building, like most turian architecture, was symmetrical, tall and strong, more imposing than graceful.

Shepard marched into the parliament with Liara and James following one step behind. Guards were posted on every entry, every hallway they walked through. If not for their breathing and the low hum of subvocals as the turians watched the hero pass by them, one could have thought they were statues.

A heavy gate with inscriptions relating their victories separated the ground team from the Primarch. It opened before Shepard could knock or storm in, leading to a relatively wide and bright office. There were three windows covering the wall on the right side of the turian sitting at his desk. There was a large bookshelf on the other and a galaxy map on the center of the room.

Adrien Victus, Primarch of Palaven, stood up and bowed his head respectfully as the three aliens entered. His plates had gotten a few more cracks in them, but the markings on his face and the brightness in his eyes veiled his advancing age.

“Commander Shepard,” he said, his voice loud in the otherwise deserted room. He walked around his desk to shake her hand. “Thank you for coming at such short notice.” He offered her a seat and the commander accepted gladly as did Liara, who sat onto the other chair. Vega stood a few paces behind, his arms crossed behind his back.

“I was on my way already,” Shepard responded with a wry smile. “You just gave me permission to barge in.”

Victus laughed. “Well then…” He crossed his hands in front of him and lifted a brow plate. “I’m sure you know then why you’ve been called.”

“You need my help again”, she couldn’t help say, but hid her impatience with a polite smile. She wasn’t sure how good Victus was at reading human body language, but respected him enough to not try to fool with him. “And I’m after Garrus, so me helping the Hierarchy is on the way so to speak.” She shrugged sardonically and felt her heart lighten as the turian before her chuckled and his mandibles twitched in unhidden amusement.

“It is always a pleasure to have you around, Commander,” he said and Shepard’s smile brightened at the honesty in his double-edged voice. He grew serious again. “But the less time we waste on friendly exchanges, the faster you’ll be on your way.”

Shepard crossed her legs and her arms, and nodded. “Good idea.”

Victus leaned back in his odd turian chair. “I won’t repeat what the mission we sent Vakarian and his team to. You were there during the meeting.”

The human grinned. “He must’ve been really annoying for you to allow a human participate in a secret all-turian meeting”

“And I’m not sure how much your husband has told you about the mission since he left.” Victus tilted his head lightly to the side.

Shepard raised a hand. “Don’t worry. Garrus didn’t tell me anything that was classified”, she assured him. “But he’s told me enough to figure things out myself.”

He gave a nod. “That’s what I thought, Shepard.”

Shepard leaned forward. “Shall we compare notes then?”

“No. I thought I’d fill you in.”

“That works just as well”, she replied with a grin.

"I will also send you all the files we have on the mission to your omi-tool, once we're finished." Victus cleared his flanging voice and began.

“As you know, Vakarian and his team arrived safely in Prima three months ago. The first reports they sent, showed nothing unusual or unexpected. Rising hostility on both sides, krogan invading turian territory and being cast out again… after three weeks Vakarian made the decision to investigate the outer perimeters, try to find a source, a mole to gain reports from the krogan’s inner circle.”

Her brows arched faintly in surprise. This was something Garrus had not mentioned. She was proud of him.

“Did they succeed?”

“They never said so directly, but we believe so. The reports on the krogan settlement were too detailed. We got information we hadn’t had before. We were finally progressing,” he explained and stood up with a deep, flanging sigh. “It was then when the problems really started.”

“What do you mean?” Shepard asked, leaning her arms on his desk.

“It took us a while – an embarrassing long while – to notice what was happening,” he mused. “The messages were intercepted,” the Primarch said with a deep sigh, his left hand coming up to scratch his right mandible.

Shepard frowned lightly. “How many?”

Victus’ eyes only held helplessness and anger. Not a healthy combination, Shepard knew.

“All of them,” he answered.

Shepard breathed out slowly, controlled. “How did you notice they were being intercepted? How did they know your team was keeping you informed?” she asked.

Victus laughed bitterly. “Commander, if we knew all the answers there would’ve been no need for Vakarian’s mission”, he said, subharmonics vibrating with bitterness. “We had no reason to be suspicious at first since the messages we received all had the structure we had agreed upon. They were short, had no marks except at the very end.”

“What happened?”

“The content. One of our com specialists assigned to analyzing the messages called my attention to it.” The turian sighed. “One of the messages… we received it four days before the communication was broken. It was too detailed.” He held a hand up as Shepard opened her mouth. “We know details matter, but for the messages we agreed that only the essential should be mentioned.”

Victus pushed himself up from his chair, began to walk from one side to the other. His gaze was fixed on the bright view through the large window. Native birds flew in circles in the rosy horizon. The sun was setting on Palaven.

“It was only one message,” he began with a clear, but quiet voice. “We almost missed it. It was a report on the most recent fight between us and the krogan a week ago. They tried to take over the communication tower. You can imagine how worried we were once we noticed the difference in structure. But the next message arrived a day or two later and it followed the directives. Then…”

“Then the connection to Rubrum was lost,” Shepard finished for him. She huffed disapprovingly.

That’s why details were important.

“Yes. We got a message the day it happened. One of them contacted us personally,” he explained.

“What?” Her heart fluttered nervously in her chest.

“They were scouting the area around the com tower. It was difficult to make out the words – the connection was threatening to break and we couldn’t risk losing it permanently. But I think it’s best if you heard it yourself.” Victus gave her a pointed look. 

The way he spoke, the dark glow in his eyes made Shepard’s blood freeze and her throat clench painfully.

“Okay. Show me,” she demanded.

He led them to the communication central in a neighboring building. It was a flat building that surrounded the com tower like a protective wall. There were only two floors, but Shepard was sure the building stretched into the underground.

Their destination was on the second floor. 

They walked there and Shepard used the extra time to ask more questions.

“How’s life been treating you, Victus?”

“Oh, not bad. Things are very tense, but it’s nothing we haven’t experienced before,” he said conversationally.

The line between her brows deepened. “How are your people reacting to the connection loss in Rubrum? They must be upset.”

His mandibles twitched. “I can’t imagine anyone being happy with recent developments,” he replied, voice lowered thickly with worry. A low growl reverberated from his throat and he straightened his back. “I’ve tried several times to get in touch with clan Urdnot, but Wrex won’t return any of my calls, or reply to my messages.”

Shepard’s mouth thinned.

Victus gave her a thorough look. “His behavior is not helping to change my opinion. In fact, it’s never been lower. The turian in me is telling me to attack the krogan settlement before they take our colony for good. My better judgement tells me that a war is the last thing we need, something to be avoided if possible.” He sighed deeply. “My people are angry, Commander. And so are the krogan.”

“It seems everyone is angry these days,” Shepard mused.

He hummed in agreement. “There might not be much I could do there,” he said quietly. “And to be honest, there is a part of me that wants to fight. If it does come to a war between us, I assure you that we won’t be the ones on the losing side.”

“Is it true that salarians are working with the krogan?” asked Jane hurriedly in an attempt to move the subject into a less fatalistic direction.

Victus walked them through a seemingly endless hallway. He stopped before the door to the communications central.

“All our sources informed us that it’s true.”

She trailed a finger over a face scar. “And what does the salarian government say?”

“They claim not to have anything to do with them. And I believe them,” he said firmly.

“It must be a separate group. Similar to what’s happened with the krogan. Garrus told me… something about supremacists in Rubrum?“ She tilted her head slightly, expecting an answer.

The turian nodded. “Yes. Their group was born on Tuchanka, I believe. The first time we heard of them was from Prima, and most krogan that settled there came originally from their homeworld.”

“You think Wrex has something to do with this?”

He gave her another long look. “No,” he said eventually. “I would like to blame everything on him (it would certainly make everything easier), but none of the… uh… civilized conversations we had, led me to believe he held any… blind hatred towards us.”

Shepard nodded, relieved. “I don’t think so either,” she agreed. “Must be someone else behind this. I’ve been on Tuchanka before. I know there are many who disagree with Wrex.”

Victus opened the door, indirectly bringing their talk to an end. “Krogan are not known for diplomacy. They shoot first, and then don’t ask any questions. It wouldn’t surprise me that many would much rather have revenge than a future.”

Unsure of how to reply to that, the commander followed him into the central. The room was large, there were only three windows and these were small and placed very high. There were numerous consoles scattered in a structured formation across the room, all faced the main console, a galaxy map with all the communication centrals. Dots of different colors (white, green and one or two red) blinked and disappeared quickly; the map moved from side to side, zooming in on different nebulae and areas, depending what the command was.

Turians were sat on almost every console, each of them focused on their job. Shepard watched them intently as they took calls, analyzed messages and signals, send their reports to their commanding officers. It was loud, but not in a chaotic way.

It occurred to her, as she watched a female turian with blue clan markings stand and leave her post, that this would’ve been were Solana would have worked, had her mother not gotten seriously ill when the Hierarchy offered her the education for this post.

Victus waved her over to the console nearest to the galaxy map. Liara and James placed themselves at a respectful distance, far enough not to be suffocating her, but close enough to listen. The Primarch signaled the officer to talk.

The young turian took a deep breath. “We got the call at three in the morning,” he said, sliding a long finger over the screen. The screen flickered as a map appeared. The man pointed at the marked circle in the middle. “Here… the signal came from the com tower compound…”

Shepard studied the map intently.

“It’s a very strategic place,” the Primarch explained. “It’s been one of the main locations of fighting these last couple of months. Ever since the conflict started, it’s been a struggle to maintain contact.”

“It… it was an emergency call,” the turian continued, glancing questioningly at Victus, who shook his head in a nod. He pressed a button.

At first there was nothing, only the hissing sound typical of a broken connection. But then, the silence was broken by chunks of unidentifiable noises.

“What-”

Victus raised a hand.

_“S-surr-ded!”_

The turian on the safer side of the galaxy answered loudly, but calmly. _“This is Lieutenant Kyrik! What’s your position? I repeat what’s your position?”_

The sound in the background changed. What had at first only been the frantic hissing from the dying signal, was rudely interrupted by the sound of gunfire.

_“Calah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah----”_ The voice got stuck, like a scratched disk.

The connection broke off again.

_“We’re – tzzzck… -tack!”_

Then the sound cleared, like the sky after a heavy storm.

_“Turians in com tower,”_ a gruff, unmistakable krogan voice announced. _“Battlemaster Sakkem orders the area to be cleared and claimed.”_

_“Orders received. The gar-- is on the mm--ove.”_

There was a throaty chuckle, before the connection broke off again.

The channel changed again, this time the Hierarchy answered.

_“Vakarian?”_ Shepard’s heart jumped painfully. _“Secure com tower! Kill Sakkem!”_ a male turian voice ordered urgently. Victus, Shepard knew. _“I repeat, secure com tower and kill Sakkem! Do you-”_

“C…py …” There was a harsh break, for a short moment they could only hear the effort of the signal to reconnect. _“- will be… back-up!”_

_“Repeat, soldier! The signal is bad over there!”_

The explosion that rattled on the other side was even felt on their console. Silence followed. Dark, sliding slivers of silence. The sound fizzed back to life, but it was marred by approaching death.

_“Sal-- shhhh… det-nat… up! … Overr-n… elp--!”_

_“Vakarian! Can you hear me?”_

There was no answer. The connection broke off. And on the map that was saved in the file, the blinking red dot for Rubrum disappeared.

_“Commander?”_

_“Do you copy?”_

_“Hello?”_

_“Is anyone there?”_

Adrien Victus pressed a button on the screen and the recording stopped, interrupting the insistent, desperate calling from his recorded voice. The silence was louder than the explosion had been. Shepard’s fingers covered her mouth as she processed what she had just heard.

“Half an hour later and the connection to Rubrum was lost for good. We’ve been trying to rebuild it, but so far nothing has worked. If we want to restore it, it has to be restarted from there,” Victus concluded.

Shepard nodded absently. “This is bad,” she said.

“No kidding,” Vega muttered behind her back.

Victus gave him a disapproving glare. “It is indeed.”

Jane pressed her lips together, allowing herself a few moments to calm her whirling mind. It was difficult to form one coherent thought as the recording was still too present. She knew the voice had not been Garrus; his voice was a bit deeper, its drawl longer. She was worried more now than before. The fact that it had been someone else, who had contacted the Hierarchy…

Wherever he was, Garrus was not having a good time.

“If the krogan have him…” She left her thoughts unfinished, refused to say it out loud.

Victus’ mandibles fluttered tight to his face. “His whole team was there as far as we know,” he said, subvocals thick. “The salarians are working with the krogan. If they were captured by them, it might be best if they were dead.”

Shepard’s jaw clenched, but she forced her mouth open. “Luckily, it’s not up to you, who dies and who lives,” she said coldly.

“Commander…”

“I came here for information, not-”

“I have given you everything we know so far,” Victus interrupted her heatedly. “We know our enemies are taking captives, but we know not what for. We know when and how the connection was lost. We know who is involved and we also know that Urdnot Wrex is being suspiciously quiet about this whole ordeal.” He cleared his throat as he spoke louder and louder, his subharmonics trilling angrily.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Shepard, but we are very alone out there. Our allies either stay out of this or refuse to support us. The salarians are working with our enemies and the Council has turned their back on us. So tell me, Commander…” Victus straightened his back, mandibles flaring, head held high. To Shepard, who was not easily intimidated, he looked impressive.

“I have given you the information you requested. What do you give _me_ in exchange?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” the human countered promptly. “Listen, I didn’t come here to waste your time. I came here to help. I will fix this – and not only because Garrus is my husband!” She pushed a hair strand out of her face. “My next stop is Tuchanka anyway. I’ll get the answers out of him, but until we know what really happened, please don’t send your fleet to Rubrum!”

“Don’t worry, Commander,” he said. “I won’t give the order to breach Rubrum’s atmosphere until the com towers are working again.”

His answer managed to calm her a little bit, though the pressure of success was still heavy on her shoulders. She doubted it would disappear until this whole situation was cleared.

Victus turned and walked away, leading them out of the central. “Once you’ve arrived in Tuchanka, I recommend you immediately ask Wrex for information. His silence is… disturbing.”

She exchanged a look with Liara, who shook her head at her silent question. “He’s alive though…”

“Yes, but as I said, he’s ignoring me,” Victus said with a low growl. “My patience, Shepard, is at its end. I am no longer willing to tolerate his behavior. Whatever offers of reconciliation we need to get the situation on Rubrum solved, they have to come from him first.”

Shepard nodded. “I understand,” she said and meant it. She was growing frustrated herself. “I will get some answers out of him, Primarch. And I promise I’ll contact you as soon as I know more. But until then-”

“Until then, no military actions will be made against them. As long as there is no danger.” He nodded.

Liara stepped closer. “And what after Tuchanka, Commander?”

“We’ll almost surely head to Prima,” Shepard said. “Depending on what Wrex has to say for himself, it might be sooner than later…”

Victus nodded in approval. “That is perhaps the best choice,” he said. “But be warned, Commander, that since Rubrum has gone silent three attempts have been made to enter the planet and all of them proved to be fruitless.”

Shepard scratched her chin lightly. “They were shot down?” She sighed deeply. “This means that the krogan have the com tower under their command…”

“Unfortunately, yes… but we’ve lost territory over time, and so far we succeeded in reconquering every single one.”

They walked on in pensive quiet and eventually arrived at the exit of the communications building. The sun was high up and the air was hot. The commander patted her armor, grateful for its protection. Shepard checked her watch. They had been three hours inside. She briefly wondered if Solana was still waiting for her and discarded that thought almost as quickly as it appeared. She was a Vakarian, of course she would be waiting!

Victus sniffed the air, a faint purr rumbling in his chest as he felt the sun light on his face.

Shepard turned to him and reached out a hand.

“I thank you for your time, Victus,” she said. “I know it must be difficult to be so far away, but I promise I won’t fail you.”

Victus grasped her hand in his and shook it, but before she could let go, he covered their hands with his free one. His mandibles broadened in a smile. His eyes softened considerably. “And I thank you for your loyalty, Commander. You’ve been an immense support and a great ally to us. Your efforts and sacrifices will not be forgotten.”

They parted there. A soldier led them out of the compound, all the while with Adrien Victus watching their retreating backs. The enormous gate opened and when it began to close again, only then did he return to his office.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this chapter feels... wrong or pointless. I had the worst month in my life and keeping it together has been a struggle.

Solana was so kind and dropped Shepard’s ground team off, before driving to her house in the suburbs of Cipritine.

As always when she visited any place, Jane took her time in studying her surroundings. Since her first stay (Talus 67th birthday two years ago) much had changed. She remembered that they’d had to celebrate under a make-shift roof and walls, because the house was still inhabitable. It had been rainy and quite windy; Talus swore that it had been the stormiest autumn since _his_ father’s 67 th birthday. They had tried to make the celebration as joyous as possible, but it was difficult with all those empty seats and the destruction around them. Talus had lost all of his friends but one, and he had passed away that same week.

Shepard shook her head, her heart clenching at the memory of these two world weary turians. They had enjoyed themselves the most once the alcohol had started flowing. The stories these two had told! Most of the references and jokes had gone over her head, but she had laughed along with them and had, for the first time since… well… since she could remember, felt something akin to home.

This was what it had to be like to have grandfathers and fathers… Jane had thought that night with a wistful smile and not for the first time, had she wished her parents had survived long enough to pass their stories onto her.

Talus had shown her a picture of his house on their first meeting. It had been passed on through generations, and had been great, even for turian standards.

“They don’t make houses like these nowadays,” the old turian had said.

It had had three stories, a garden on the front and a larger one in the back. A century old tree had stood watch in the back, providing shadows in the summers and a home for more than one kind of bird species.  

The tree had perished in a fire during a Reaper attack; the gardens were no more and where once had stood a proud building for a proud family, stood only a wreck. Half of the house was gone, turned to ashes in the attacks, and the other half had been roasted in a fire.

Solana had told her how she and her father had returned to their house during a moment of reprieve to salvage _anything_ and have a place to spend the night. It had been one of the hardest nights in her entire life.

“We’re here,” Solana announced as she turned around the corner.

Many of the houses in the vicinity had been rebuilt, but the destruction was still very much present. This was probably due to the fact that the Vakarians’ household was still missing a half.

“He’s still refusing to rebuild?” Shepard asked with a light shake of her head.

“I swear he’s worse than Garrus,” she groaned. “I get why he doesn’t want to, but there’s really no point in keeping it like that! I mean… _look at it!”_ She waved at the wreckage. “It’s hideous!”

Shepard couldn’t disagree. In comparison to their neighbors, their house looked like it belonged to the slums and not a elite suburb.

“Well, I hope you didn’t invite me to change his mind,” Shepard said, only half joking. “Whatever I say, he’ll do the opposite on purpose.”

“But you know he likes you, right?” Solana dragged the keys out of her pocket. “Or else he wouldn’t even bother to listen to what you have to say…”

“Yeah…”

They stepped inside the house and were greeted by a foreign, spicy scent and a very familiar one of-

“Oh my God!” Shepard covered her mouth as her eyes widened in surprise. She looked at Sol, who was rumbling with amusement. “Is your father making… oh my God…”

Solana laughed loudly, her voice echoing through the quiet rooms. “Garrus mentioned once how much you humans love pizza. And I remember watching a lot of holovids with humans eating it for any occasion, so we thought-”

“Oh my God…” A laugh bubbled up her throat. “Thank you!”

Her sister stared at her, surprised at her emotive reaction, but laughed along. She reached for Shepard’s armor.

“Let’s get you settled,” she said. “There’s no radiation here, you can walk around in your undersuit. Dad has… well, he finally got to replace the windows and walls of the living room last week. The insulation was – well, it was lacking.”

“You need to use the bathroom?” she asked once Shepard’s armor rested safely in the closet.

“Maybe later.”

“Okay. You want to rest? You can sleep on my bed. I’m afraid the improvised guest room has been – uh – taken over by Dad’s stuff…“

Shepard chuckled and raised a hand. “Nah, I’m fine. Thank you.”

The turian gave a short nod and led her to the kitchen. Shepard followed slowly, too engrossed in getting reacquainted with the walls.

Turian houses were higher than humans’, simply because they were by nature taller than the ‘squishy, hairy aliens’. The caramel painted walls were covered by bookshelves, unpacked and opened boxes, and other household related stuff. 

Solana pointed at a door at the end of the corridor. The bathroom. Shepard smiled in thanks, watched as the turian turned left once she entered the living room.

The living room was a wide room with more windows than walls, since once half of the room had been destroyed during the war and Talus still refused to rebuild the house completely. Shepard glanced at the scorch marks on the corners and roof, the couch, which she knew still had a rifle as a replacement for a leg. Solana was right. It would be best for everyone if Talus gave in and allowed the house to be rebuild or simply bought another one.

“Shepard?”

Jane followed the voice into the kitchen. Solana was already setting the table. Her father, the tallest person in the room without a doubt, had his back to them, fully focused on stirring something in a weird looking pot.

That was certainly not the pizza.

“Mr. Vakarian,” she greeted, approaching the old turian with a raised hand.

He turned swiftly, wiping his hands in his yellow apron. He bowed his head.

“Shepard,” he said and shook her hand, before turning back to the. “I heard the arriving fleet delayed you.”

“It did,” she replied as she sat down on her appointed seat. Her fingers were kneading her hands, itchy to help.

“Well, I hope you had still an eventless journey.”

“As much as it’s possible nowadays,” she said, thanking Solana when she filled her glass with water. “How have you been, sir?”

Talus sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly, but it was so fleeting that it almost seemed as if it had never happened.

“Well enough to keep standing. Though my knees are not what they used to be. Fifteen years in the military, twenty-five years in C-Sec and a war does that to you…”

“That’s because you keep insisting on doing everything yourself,” his daughter snapped and closed the cupboard door with a loud bang.

“Because I _can_ do everything myself,” Talus retorted calmly, but with a dangerous hum in his subvocals. He opened the oven slightly, squinting as the heat hit his eyes. “I think the pizza is done… Shepard?”

Shepard stood up, sidestepping when Sol stomped to the table to set the plates, and approaching the other turian in the room. Talus opened the oven fully. Jane nodded.

“Looks good,” she commented, her mouth watering at the sight and the smell of the salami pizza.

“The house looks so horrible, Dad that it looks like it’s haunted,” Solana complained. The plates chirred as she set the table. A long fork fell and she bent with an annoyed grunt to pick it up. “And I heard you when you were working in the garden!” She pointed the fork at him. “You should get your knees looked at.”

Talus shut the oven with a loud bang. He placed the glowing pizza on a round tablet and moved it to the dinner table.

“What for?” he asked. “It’s age related. And our house looks haunted because I haven’t had the time to repaint it yet.”

Solana reached out for the knife, but her father slapped her hands away and cut the pizza himself. Shepard sat uncomfortably in silence, her fingers playing with the napkin.

“Oh, and when is _that_ happening?”

Talus glared at her, mandibles clicking close to his face. “When I say so,” he growled and grabbed Shepard’s plate. “And watch your tone.” He handed Jane her plate. “Here, Shepard. I hope it’s good.”

“Thank you,” she muttered, unsure where to look at in this uncomfortable moment.  

The family ate mostly in silence, but as the minutes passed it turned less uncomfortable. Solana made an effort to converse, but it was difficult to maintain one, when her father’s answers were so short and Shepard’s news so unwelcome.

Once they had finished lunch, they carried their empty plates to the sink, where Shepard insisted on washing the dishes to repay them for the meal. The turians helped each other with cleaning everything up and putting everything back in its place. Talus then began to prepare dessert, while Solana left the kitchen in silence.

“We bought ice cream for levo as well,” he said. “I wasn’t sure what flavor you preferred, so I bought chocolate and mango.”

Jane smiled gratefully as she sat down across from him. “That’s very thoughtful,” she said, serving herself a generous amount of ice cream. “I haven’t had mango in a long while.”

He smiled. “Is it your favorite?”

“Mango? Yes. Since I was a kid. Chocolate is trickier. It depends on the kind of chocolate.”

Talus nodded and sunk the long, turian-friendly spoon into the ice cream bowl. “Dextro-chocolate is different from levo-chocolate, I think…” He hummed in pleasure as he got a first taste of the creamy green flavor. “Had a co-worker back in C-Sec – an asari. She happened to be able to eat both. She thought dextro-chocolate was… thicker in its flavor than levo.” He shrugged. “But taste can be very subjective when it comes to food.”

“Yeah. I remember going to a chocolate store on my first journey in the military. It was in Switzerland.” She sighed and smiled at the memory. “You can’t imagine the variety of chocolate they had there! They had… I’m pretty sure they had everything. I bought a friend white chocolate with strawberry, because I knew it was his favorite. Turned out he didn’t like it much. He said it tasted differently from the ‘real one’.”

Talus scratched his left mandible absently. “Garrus was difficult when he was a child,” he mused and chuckled at Shepard’s snort. “I guess it’s something I’ve said many times.”

She grinned. “I think it’s funny.”

He laughed earnestly. “Well, Garrus really gave us difficulties when he was a young boy. He always wanted to eat the same dish and it didn’t change until… oh, until he was about ten years old.” He shook his head, smiling wistfully. “But Solana-” His subharmonics thrummed with restrained laughter. “She really had us worried in her first years.”

Shepard frowned and put aside her spoon.

“There was a year – she must’ve been three, four years old – where she didn’t eat anything. Anything at all. Niva was so worried. We almost went to the doctor.”

Shepard’s smile faltered slightly at Talus sigh as he mentioned his wife.

“How long were you two together?” she asked quietly.

“We were married for 37 years. Forty if you count the years we’ve courted.”

Jane pictured herself in Talus’ age and without Garrus to accompany her through the last part of her life. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized how possible it was that he might not get to that point. She swallowed, her throat constricting.

“You’re thinking of him, aren’t you?” Talus croaked, subharmonics tight with worry.

“Yes…” she answered shakily.

“I think of him too,” he whispered. “I think of him all the time…”

Shepard didn’t know what to say. All this emotional talk… it was so personal. She wasn’t used to it, though she’d had plenty of practice these last few years.

She wanted Garrus back, and not only because he was her husband and she loved him, but also because of Talus and Solana, who had lived in uncertainty so many times in the past. They deserved better. They deserved to know that Garrus was fine.

Garrus needed to survive. For her sake. For their sake. He couldn’t be dead. Dear God, please don’t let him be dead.

“What are you going to do?” asked Talus suddenly.

Shepard ran a hand over her face with a tired sigh. “We’ll go to Tuchanka to talk to Wrex. Victus has been trying to get in touch with him, but no one will answer him,” Shepard explained and sighed. “I’m worried, honestly. I’m worried that… something might have happened to him…”

“You fear he’s been killed by the same group that’s causing trouble in Rubrum?”

She shook her head. “No. We would’ve heard about it. And the problems started on Prima _first_ , so that hostile group mustn’t have been successful on Tuchanka. No, if anything, Wrex killed their first leader and _then_ the group moved away to be safe.”

Talus leaned back with a hum of subvocals. “But if Wrex killed their leader, why would he stay hidden? If a krogan leader kills another it’s usually a thing he’s admired for.”

“That’s… that’s a good point. I honestly don’t know,” Jane answered. Her lips thinned and she shook her head with a bitter, cold smile. “I- I don’t know what to think…” she said, hating how weak her voice sounded. Wrex was her friend and she didn’t know how to defend him or if he even deserved to be defended. “This silence… it’s so unlike him. And even if he didn’t want to answer to Victus’ messages, there’s still Bakara. And Grunt. They’d force him to answer.”

“So, the question that needs to be answered, is why neither of them has spoken out on this topic,” the old turian said.

“It’s weird… it’s not like the krogan were ever hesitant of killing each other before…” Shepard hesitated. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say they’re afraid. Or worse… they agree with Sakkem’s group.”

“When did Sakkem show up first?”

“The first time I heard of him was… I think while talking to Liara. Garrus never mentioned him.” Shepard nodded. “Yeah… But Garrus did vaguely mention that he might’ve found the source of the conflict. Said something about supremacists, but I guess you’ve heard about it already. He was going to… you know… head out to secure the com tower. That’s pretty much all I know…”

Talus sighed deeply, his eyes unfocused as his thoughts were drawn to his son.

“He’s been captured, hasn’t he?”

Shepard swallowed thickly. She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. She couldn’t speak, but her silence was answer enough.

Talus sighed again and turned his head away from her. His mandibles drew tightly to his face.

“The media has been reporting about the connection loss. They obviously don’t know more than us, but I’ve been asking around in the Hierarchy. No one would tell me anything, saying that they knew nothing for certain,” he said, the tremble in his subharmonics louder than his voice. “But _I know_. 25 years in C-Sec does that to you. You learn to connect the dots with the evidence you have. I’m not stupid… they got my son. How else would they’ve broken the connection?” He shook his head and his hands clasped together, his long fingers kneading each other.

He sighed shakily. “I’m telling myself it’s for the greater good… as long as there is one survivor, all sacrifices are worth it, but… the greater good isn’t always comforting… My poor son…”

“I’ll get him back, Talus,” Jane rasped heatedly. She hated how resigned he sounded.

“I know you think you can, Shepard,” he whispered. “But it’s not up to you. It’s been… a week? I’ve heard the krogan are taking captives. Why would they ever treat him in a respectful, dignified manner when we wouldn’t give them the curtesy of an imprisonment in tranq-” Talus broke off with a harsh gasp. He was shuddering, trilling distressed. He stumbled to his feet, pushing the chair so harshly back that it toppled over. The desert cup splintered as it hit the floor.

Solana, hearing the commotion, returned quickly and, seeing her father in a state of disarray, put the chair back in its position.

“This is not the first time I – we’ve had to live in uncertainty before,” Talus said. “But… even though I’ve survived them, it’s still hard… and I feel, as I get older, the days feel longer and are harder to overcome…” He stared out of the window, watching what was left from his garden.

Solana’s hands were fiddling with her shirt. Her mandibles were drawn tight to her face. She didn’t know what to do. Jane, seeing her indecision, slid her legs from the other chair, motioning to her to sit.

“I…” Talus took a deep breath. “I’m not going to ask you _not_ look for him once you’re in Rubrum. I- I cannot do that. But don’t forget what is at stake.” He turned back to Shepard. “If we lose Rubrum, I guarantee you that it will be only the beginning of many future krogan conquests. The krogan _cannot_ win! If Garrus is dead-”

“Dad!” Solana cried out indignantly.

Talus slammed his fist on the table, making the other plates rattle. “If my son is dead, I only ask you to kill whoever is responsible and everyone who was involved.”

“I promise,” Jane said darkly, fists clenched to her sides, but refused to believe she would ever have to fulfill that promise.

“Garrus is strong,” Solana pointed out heatedly, glaring openly at her father. “He survived that shithole Omega. He’ll survive prison.”

“Shouldn’t you be packing?” her father asked cuttingly.

She shrugged. “Just waiting for orders,” she said with a pointed look at the human.

Shepard frowned. “I think I missed something.”

“Solana’s going with you,” Talus answered.

“She is?”

“I am,” Solana said with a nod.

“Ah, when did we decide that?”

“Do you have room in your ship, Commander?” Talus asked.

Shepard squeezed her eyes shot. “I do,” she admitted reluctantly.

Her father-in-law extended his arms to the sides, his mandibles fluttering as he smiled.

“Then it’s decided. My daughter will join your crew,” he said firmly. “My family has been with you since the beginning and it would be an honor to follow you again. Even if it is a rather more personal matter than before.”

Solana chuckled. “Sure, because the Reaper threat wasn’t-”

“I will drive you to the Docking Bay as soon as you give out the order, Shepard,” Talus said. “Until then, I suggest you get some rest. Solana hasn’t been out on the field for decades, she’ll be rusty.”

“I can’t believe you just said that out loud,” Solana exclaimed with a shake of her head. “Now she’s definitely going to refuse to take me with her!”

“Please!” her father protested. “She had that asari with her the first time! If an academic was allowed to join her crew while hunting down a rogue, barefaced Spectre, then she’ll definitely take you along. You at least had military training.”

“Could you please stop talking as if I wasn’t present?” Shepard gritted impatiently.

Solana turned to her. “I’m sorry, Shepard,” she said. “You weren’t supposed to find out like this.”

She arched an eyebrow. “When were you going to tell me?”

“In the car.”

She laughed and shook her head. “This is incredible!”

“Are you taking her with you, or not?” Talus asked. “There’s no time to waste.”

Shepard sighed, then shrugged and nodded. “Yeah. I have no objections,” she said, turning to the female turian. “I’ve seen you shoot and I’ve seen you work. You’d be a great asset to my team. But can you hold your temper in check? Can you do your duty even if it means leaving Garrus behind?”

“Could you?” Solana stared at her intently. When Shepard refused to reply, she leaned forward. “I’m a turian, Shepard. I will not disrespect you and I won’t question you. If you tell me to do something, I’ll do it. I’ll only come up with suggestions if I have any, or if I got information you don’t have yet. I won’t let you down.”

“I don’t have trouble working with aliens,” she continued. “In my early career, I’ve been assigned to a team that consisted in analyzing data of a highly clandestine asari organization, where all of the members were former Eclipse. I worked alongside salarians and asari. We got the information we needed, stormed their headquarters, accidentally killed their leader, and took all their belongings to study them.”

“My daughter has also worked high up in the Hierarchy,” Talus spoke up proudly. “She would’ve made it into Blackwatch, had my wife not gotten seriously ill.”

Shepard’s lips twitched involuntarily. These two were talking as if listing all of Solana’s achievements was going to stop her from regretting her decision to take her into her team.

“I know,” Shepard said, gently, but firmly. “And I’m grateful for your offer. Really. It’ll be nice to have a turian on board again. It’ll be fun.”

Solana grinned broadly and her subharmonics gave an excited thrill.

“You won’t regret this, Shepard,” she promised, standing up to shake her hand.

“Will you be alright?” she asked suddenly, turning to her father. “What will you-?”

Talus raised a hand and she stopped talking. “I will be fine, Sol. I can take care of myself.”

Sol didn’t look convinced. She glanced at Shepard, then looked at her father again. “You sure?”

“I am,” he said steadily, though there was something in his subvocals that belied his calm demeanor. “Just take care of yourself. Don’t rush into things. And do things the-”

“Do things the right way, or don’t do them at all. I know,” she said, softly. She reached for his hands, which he grasped tightly.

Her father nodded, unable to form words. Shepard exhaled slowly and stood up. She left the kitchen to them and headed to Sol’s bedroom. She was suddenly tired. Her legs cooperated only reluctantly, but she managed it and flopped onto the bed. She faintly recalled that she had forgotten to tell Solana when they’d be leaving, but before she could even think about moving, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

-

Talus drove them to Cipritine’s docking bay an hour later than Shepard had intended. It was her fault, really; she’d overslept and would’ve continued to, had Solana not woken her up.

The drive to her ship was quiet, except for Talus’ questions to Solana if she had forgotten to pack something, and his advices. Jane found their brief exchange heartwarming and saddening at the same time.

The docking bay was filled with busy people, but it was less crowded than in the morning. They walked past an arguing couple of a male turian and an asari. The latter was admonishing her husband, because he had lost her sister’s amulet. Shepard thought briefly about going back and listening more closely, but her two companions continued to walk stubbornly ahead.

Grumbling under her breath, she joined them at the docks. They stood there for a while, looking at each other in awkward silence.

Shepard took a deep breath and offered a hand to her father-in-law.

“Thank you so much for the pizza, sir,” Shepard said with a firm handshake.

A mandible flicked in a small, but earnest turian smile. He shook her hand with restrained fondness. “It was a pleasure to eat with you, Shepard.” He hesitated and leaned closer. “Take care, Commander,” he whispered as if his words were a dangerous secret. “Of yourself _and_ my daughter.”

She smiled crookedly. “I will. I promise to look out for her.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” he said thoughtfully. “My daughter is still in her prime, a bit rusty, but still good. Perhaps… give her some time to train and she will be a great asset.”

“Don’t worry, sir.”

Talus turned to his daughter now. If Solana had heard their exchange she gave no sign of it. Their eyes met, their mandibles clicking tighter to their faces. Jane turned away and approached the airlock to her ship, leaving them enough space to say their goodbyes.

“Watch out for each other, okay?” he said as he moved closer to her.

“I will, Dad,” Solana replied quietly, leaning in for a brief embrace. “I- I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Sol. The house will be a lot emptier without you.”

She grinned and nudged his arm with her elbow. “You should paint the walls, while Shepard and I are busy saving the world.”

He growled, but it was playful, and a little bit sad as he stroked a hand over her mandible. He lowered his head, touching his forehead to Solana’s, and hummed.

“I’ll make you proud,” she promised.

He sighed deeply, closing his eyes briefly, before drawing back from their embrace. His mandibles fluttered as he struggled for words.

“I know,” he said.

Solana smiled and with a last touch to his shoulder, they parted ways. Shepard was waiting for her at the airlock. She waved at Talus and led her newest crew member into the Normandy SR-2.

*

After a brief introduction to her Normandy crew, Shepard stationed Solana at the CIC at one of the many consoles. She was yet unsure what her task would be; she needed Solana to analyze all the data once they were in Prima. As for now, there was little she could give her, only the recordings and data Victus had given her, and these had been thoroughly documented already.

She decided to leave her be and see what Solana found to entertain herself with. It was important to see what a person was like when they were not given orders, before they were dropped into a battlefield.

One always walked into battle, whether it was during a mission or a war, with a strategy, a goal in mind. But once the fighting started, all plans flew out the window and the ultimate goal was to finish the mission. Shepard could bark orders all she wanted, but doing that would risk her own safety. It was important that her team be able to think on their feet, to be able to improvise and keep a clear mind in stressful, possibly suicidal situations.

If Solana wasn’t productive if she wasn’t given an order, then Shepard could not take her out in a mission.

The Normandy hit space, when Shepard, wide awake and well rested from the earlier nap, decided it was a good time to make her usual rounds. She started with Joker, checked if everything was alright with Sol and headed then to the shuttle bay.

She stepped into the shuttle bay and was surprised to find Cortez missing. She frowned, turned almost to the speaker to ask EDI where the heck her shuttle pilot was, but stopped herself in time. She shrugged to herself, vowing to find him later, and headed towards Vega, who was – surprise, surprise! – doing pull-ups.

Vega grunted, the muscles in his arms stood out the more as he held himself from the bar. Shepard’s lips twitched suspiciously, an eyebrow fluttered upwards while she admired his strong, impressive form. She held only friendly feelings for this man, saw him almost like a little brother, but man, James Vega did have a hot body.

“You’re done with turians, Lola?” he asked with a strained voice. “Want to try out something more familiar?”

She chuckled. “I’m not sure, Vega,” she answered, pretending to be thoughtful. “My standards have gotten very high since I got married.”

He laughed breathlessly and lowered himself from the bar. Taking a towel from his bench, Vega wiped the sweat from his neck and face.

“I’m not sure I want an explanation…” He tossed the towel aside. “Anyway, anything I can do for ya?” A playful grin made his eyes glint. “Wanna spar and lose?”

She scoffed.

“Come on! My arms hurt from the lifting. It’s a head start, Lola.”

She raised her arms in defeat. She laughed lowly and got out of her jacket. “Alright. But don’t whine if you lose, okay?”

It was his turn to scoff. “I never whine.”

“Do I need you to remind you of -”

He laughed, a hint of embarrassment in the loud sound. “Okay, okay, I get it. You win,” he interrupted her and got in position. He watched her stretch her arms and legs appreciatively.

“Well that’s disappointing. I didn’t use any of my moves”, she said and got in position as well, her arms raised slightly, her fists on eyelevel.

Vega huffed a laugh, but he sobered as quickly as he lunged forward. His arm shot forward, but as quick as the movement was, it also held restraint. When Shepard dodged it fluently, not even a strand of hair loosing itself from the braid, the soldier stepped aside and aimed another, this time more aggressive punch.

Shepard’s lips thinned and her forehead crinkled in concentration. Her eyes were focused, like green laser points following the next victim’s head. She dodged the next attack and went into offense.

“I only wanted to inform you that I want you on my ground team once we get to Tuchanka,” she rasped.

She kicked forward, hitting his hip. James gasped in surprise, but recovered quickly and his fist hit her right shoulder. Shepard grunted at the unexpected hit. She had forgotten how strong he was.

Repressing the urge to rub at the bruising piece of skin, Shepard twisted around as his fist neared her again. Her fist collided with hard, tense muscle and lunged again as he stumbled to regain balance. His shin hit the side of her thigh. But dear God, she had forgotten how tiring and bruising sparring with Vega was. And she was really out of shape. She wasn’t as fast or strong as she used to be. She could only imagine how much Garrus would tease her for…

“What’s destination time?”

Unwillingly, she froze just as Vega moved forward. His fist collided heavily against her chest. She gasped in surprise and in pain, stumbling backwards and trying to keep herself on her feet.

She heard a deep chuckle.

“I see you’ve lost your touch, Commander”

“I was distracted,” she quipped just as her leg shot forward, aiming for his side. He twisted just in time to defend her attack and then lunged forward. She blocked him efficiently, with an elegance that made him whistle. Shepard laughed breathlessly.

“Wanted to give you a head start,” she explained. “Joker said it’ll take a week if the relays are all working well. Don’t get lazy.” She ducked. “And don’t gamble there. I’d hate to lose you to the krogans.”

“That’s – very considerate – of – you.”

His hand was balled into a fist. She could see the strain in his muscles underneath the bronze skin. Her stomach churned uncomfortably, her heart constricted as his fist approached her stomach with dangerous speed.

Her eyes widened. She lost sense of time and space. Someone cried out. And suddenly her hands rushed down, blocking his attempt to harm them. Her knee jerked forward and he groaned in pain as it collided with his firm abdomen. For whatever reason, Shepard didn’t – couldn’t - stop and she jumped him. He landed ungraciously on his butt, while Shepard rolled to her side like a cat falling from a tree.

They were silent except for the ragged breathing. Shepard sat up, her heart racing in her chest. Her back was turned to him, but the concerned, watchful eyes of Vega were drilling holes into her back.

She shivered and forced herself to her feet. There was a second, where she thought to simply leave, but her manners got the better of her. She turned and offered him her hand. He nodded gratefully and heaved himself up.

“Sorry, Lola,” James said breathlessly. He looked taken aback, both by having landed on his butt and her hectic, violent reaction. “I shouldn’t have… you know… punched you while you -”

“It’s okay”, she rushed to say. She really wanted to leave now. “It’s just… I’d forgotten how rough our sparring sessions used to be.”

He waved her explanation aside. “Hey, it’s okay”, he said. “We all have our bad days. And you can’t always win, Lola. You’ve gotta let us win sometimes or else we’ll get discouraged.”

She rolled her eyes and managed a genuine smile. Her throat still felt very dry and her shoulders heavy.

He saluted.

“It’s always an honor to spar with you, Commander”, he said.

She gave a curt nod and saluted. She lowered her arms again and her posture relaxed. “At ease, Vega. And… thanks.”

He grinned and turned back to work.

*

Shepard headed to her cabin as soon as she finished her usual rounds. As far as she could tell, no one had noticed anything… unusual about her. Liara had stared intently at her during their short conversation, had watched her so carefully that Shepard had left her room as quick as she had entered. Miranda was fine, though she couldn’t tell for sure since she had skipped her.

Now she was locked in her cabin, safely from the outside world but trapped in her own mind. Her eyes were closed. She was telling herself to sleep. Sleeping was the most enjoyable activity; it was a respite from overthinking.

Shepard was shaken from her dark thoughts at an insistent knock on her door. Her eyes closed. She groaned into her pillow and wrapped the blanket tighter around her body. She had given the precise order that she did not want to be disturbed! Hopefully, whoever was in front of her door would see the error in his ways and turn back to his work.

The second attempt to catch her attention was louder, irritated even.

“Shepard, I know you’re in there!”

Shepard groaned again. Great! Miranda was just the person she needed at this moment. The woman knocked again. And again. And again. It got too annoying very quickly and Shepard had no choice but to abandon the warmth of her bed.

“Yes?” she asked, the stretched sound of her voice conveying exactly how delighted she was at seeing the other woman interrupt her moment of solitude.

Miranda had her arms crossed, stood in that irritatingly pose.

“Can I come in?”

Dear God, that woman had to watch her tone!

“I gave an order, Miranda.” Shepard’s foot was tapping the floor impatiently.

Miranda pushed right past her, throwing her long, dark hair over her shoulder and hitting the commander right across the face with the silky strands. Shepard clenched her fists.

“I know.”

A low growl rumbled in her chest as she followed the scientist into her own room. She watched as Miranda lowered herself onto the couch and made herself comfortable. Her eyes studied shamelessly the room, a brow raising faintly as she noticed the state of order in the captain’s quarters.

“What do you want?” Shepard asked through gritted teeth.

Miranda crossed her legs and smoothed her shirt. “I thought you’d like some company”, she answered evenly.

Shepard laughed humorlessly, turning away and lurching her way back to her bed.

“I’m not in the mood for company. That’s why I wanted to be left alone, you know?”

“Let me rephrase the sentence then. I don’t think you should be alone, Commander”, Miranda said, meeting the death glare head on without squirming.

“Well… I don’t care what you think, okay?” Shepard snapped. She waved a hand at the door. “Go away now.”

“You haven’t told him, haven’t you?”

“What? Who- who are you talking about?” Shepard stammered.

Miranda tilted her head. “Don’t pretend to know less than you do. It insults both of us, Shepard.”

The scarred woman turned her gaze away from hers. Her shoulders slumped. Before she knew it, she was lying on the bed, curled into herself.

“No…” she muttered and closed her eyes. “No, he…” She swallowed, the last time she’d seen Garrus flashing painfully before her eyes. “He doesn’t know. Yet.”

“You keep saying that. _‘Yet’, ‘soon’, ‘tomorrow’_ …” Miranda shook her head. “I don’t believe you. I don’t think you believe yourself.”

If possible, Shepard made herself even smaller. She took deep breaths, trying desperately to keep herself from sobbing. Her eyes filled with tears.

She didn’t understand why she was reacting this way. She didn’t know, no one had taught her how to deal with this kind of pain. During her training and later during her service years, many people had given her advice on how to deal with loss and orders that ended in death. Some of it helped, most of it was repetitive _– you’ll never stop seeing them before you close your eyes. Death is inevitable in our jobs. If you can’t deal with it, then you should leave now..._

But that’s the thing. Shepard had grown on the streets after having lost her parents at a very young age. She had seen horrible things, but she had found a way out of it. Military training had been brutal, but she’d made it and graduated with honors. She survived Akuze with as many mental scars as physical. The first nights of the first months after her return had been one of the most trying, difficult ones in her life; and yet she conquered the nightmares and the guilt and managed to find peace in helping others.

Her death and resurrection had been very inconvenient and unexpected. Sometimes, but not that often anymore, Shepard wished she had stayed dead. Especially after she woke and had found herself with Cerberus. Her friends had all moved on, most of them were too busy to accompany her to fight the Collectors, but they had all returned to her eventually to fight.

The end of the Reaper war and the coma had been a well-deserved break. Waking up had been hell, had felt more like a punishment at first. But she had persevered. She had survived it and found happiness. She was married to her best and most loyal friend. Sure, he was spiky, resembled more a dinosaur than a human, but who cared?

Shepard had learned to live with her scars and memories of the war and people, friends she had sent to die. So why was this one death so difficult? It wasn’t any more her fault than Kaidan’s death. In fact, Kaidan’s death was more her fault than her child’s death.

Why did it hurt so much? Why couldn’t she just be happy? Or alone? Or not there at all?

The mattress dipped with Miranda’s weight. Shepard grasped her blanket and pulled it up to her ears. When a warm hand was placed on her back, Shepard shivered.

“I’m sorry, Shepard”, Miranda said quietly.

Three words Shepard had heard more than enough and been given more than she could ever count. Yet they were enough to break through her façade.

Shepard cried. Miranda rubbed her back, no word came from her lips. Shepard cried, her throat aching with every heart-wrenching sob. The scarred skin of her cheeks burned with the salty trail of tears.

She thought of her unborn child. The one she refused to give a name in fear to make it real. She had already chosen a name. That had been her mistake. It had not been the only one.

She thought of Garrus and cried harder. The possibility that she would never see him again was there and hit her hard. She wanted him with her. Why did he have to leave? If he hadn’t left Shepard wouldn’t have accepted that stupid mission!

It was his fault.

But it wasn’t. And Shepard hated herself for thinking it was.

It felt like hours to both women, before Shepard stopped crying. Her body was trembling. She felt cold and exhausted. Miranda continued to rub her back. She still hadn’t said anything.

Eventually, Miranda stood up, but returned to her side shortly after. She handed her toilet paper, which Shepard took gratefully to blow her nose. She dried her cheeks and eyes with the back of her hand. She sniffled. She didn’t know why, but she smiled weakly. Miranda returned the gesture, albeit a bit more awkwardly.

“Here…” she said softly and pressed a glass of water into her trembling hand.

“Th-thank you”, Shepard croaked, her throat feeling raw after all the crying. She drank the cool water eagerly.

Miranda nodded thoughtfully and gently pushed Shepard back to lie on the mattress again. Once she was sure Shepard was comfortable, she grabbed the end of the bedcover and draped it over her.

“Why are you helping me so much?” Shepard whispered, sliding deeper into the warm cocoon. She wiggled her toes in an attempt to warm them.

Miranda stood up and placed the half-empty glass on her night table.

“Because I know what it’s like to lose something you really wanted…”

Shepard allowed that to sink in, while the other moved away from her bed and headed to the exit.

The commander remembered now what she’d read on the Shadow Broker’s base many years ago. Miranda could not bear any children. She was infertile.

She closed her eyes again. How could she have forgotten this?

“I’m sorry”, she said and meant it. “I’m so sorry, Miranda”

Miranda’s hand was already touching the door handle, when she turned to the source of the voice. She wasn’t looking at her, her eyes were focused on something else. Her tongue slid over her lips.

“It’s okay now, Shepard”, she said after a short pause. Their eyes met. Miranda smiled weakly. “It’s something I’ve learned to live with. And it’s not something I wanted”

Shepard nodded slowly and sunk back onto her bed.

“Thank you…” she said quietly.

Sleep overtook her quickly, but she heard Miranda’s answer and the door open and close.

“Sleep well, Commander”, Miranda said.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a pain to write, I must've rewritten it like four times, before it finally looked like something.

_On Salva, a city near Prima_

_Approx. 9:45 a.m._

_67 days before loss of connection_

_*_

Garrus and his team arrived in Salva, the city where the com tower was, at precisely 10 a.m., as Primarch Latus had recommended. Apparently the city was notorious for its excruciating long security check-ups. Reason for the (reasonable) paranoia were the increasing number of attacks on Salva from the krogan. Because the city surrounded, protected the com tower, the one thing left stopping their enemies from getting the upper hand, it was _the_ strategic place in Rubrum. If the krogan conquered Salva, it would only be a matter of time, before they took hold of Prima. Unless the Council changed their minds, but Garrus wasn’t an idiot and certainly not a naïve optimist.

The galaxy was made of idiots, who slept on the achievement of the intelligent, useful minorities. Unfortunately the majority of the idiots ended up in high offices, like Counselors, Presidents or worse, news reporters.

He forced his mind to wander to a happier place, Shepard. They had talked for hours the previous night. She missed him, she had mentioned it several times that night, and he missed her as well. It was not only the feel of her body against his, but also her laughter, her scent, her loud voice...

Garrus wondered if that’s how his father had felt all those times he had had to work long days in C-Sec. His father had called only once a day, sometimes only every two days, depending how busy and tired he was. But Garrus remembered how his father got this wide smile on his face, his subharmonics rumbling and purring with affection and _something else_ , something which Garrus could still not put words to it, when he finally heard his family’s voice.

It was incredible. He understood his father more today than ever before. And he realized that getting married, forming a family with someone else meant, more than graduating or finishing military service, growing up.

That’s why his father had gone to the Citadel to work, and that’s also why Garrus was on his way to Salva; not only to earn money, but to do what’s right; to prove, to show himself worthy to his wife and be a good example to their children.

Garrus wondered if he and Shepard would ever have children of their own. Miranda had said it was possible. Cerberus had done something to Shepard’s uterus, but he rarely dared to think about it. Firstly, because of Cerberus. Secondly, because hoping terrified him of being irreparably disappointed.

“How many check-points do we have to pass?” Tavis asked Garrus, shaking him effectively from his thoughts.

He gave the map another fleeting look. “We have to head north, so… three. No, four.”

Tavis dropped back on his seat. He muffled his groan.

Syrus was the appointed driver, but he still managed to send the younger turian an admonishing look. Garrus had to talk to him later about that. Tavis was young, had a lot to learn, but there was no need to criticize him for everything he did. Especially when he voiced his exhaustion or frustration or impatience. Everyone dealt with it their own way.

“Number four is ahead of us,” Syrus announced. The sun hit his yellow markings, making them glow golden.

Calah turned to their leader. “Sir, they're asking us to drive to the side.”

He sighed and ordered them to do just that.

“Are we expecting trouble?” asked Tavis.

“Not from them, I don’t think. They must find this job just as tiring as we do,” Garrus said.

“Besides, we’re on the opposite side of the northern block,” Calah interjected. “Reports say that the northern block is a lot more frequently under attack than the others.”

“Right,” Tavis said with a nod. “They conquered the northern cities… Ilva and... and Satah.”

Garrus let out a huff. “Ugly business. I remember reading the reports when we arrived. The _uncensored_ reports.”

“Was it very different from the official story?” Calah cocked her head slightly.

“I still think there are a few things… missing…. I don’t know… there was something about them that made me thing that they’re hiding something.” Garrus shook his head. “But no, the reports were not that different. Only our defeat was… a lot worse than they’d made it out to be.”

“How many casualties?”

“About two thousand in a day. And many are still missing.”

Calah drew back with slackened mandibles, her pretty face a grotesque mask of shock. “That’s half the population on Satah, wasn’t it?”

“And almost two third of Ilva,” Garrus assented with bitterness.

“No wonder Latus ordered the military to attack the krogan settlement,” Tavis said in a hushed whisper. “What the krogan did…” His mandibles clicked tight to his face and a growl shook from within. “I can’t believe the Council sided with them.”

“It is injustice at its best display,” Syrus commented lowly. He brought the shuttle to a halt as an asari officer approached them.

“The Hierarchy should leave the Council!” Tavis cried. “Without us they-”

“Leaving the Council would do us no good,” Calah cut in sharply. “I hate them as much as you do, but leaving Council space would mean having to change- well, pretty much everything. We’d have to make new alliances, trade agreements, reinforce our borders, etc.”

Tavis crossed his arms. “It feels like they’re holding us back, though…”

“Well… they kind of are if you think about it. But they’re holding everyone back as well. Imagine if the Council didn’t put limits on the salarians or asari… imagine what _they_ would do!”

The conversation came to an abrupt end as they were politely ask to get out of the car. Once outside, they had to show their IDs, then had to wait for almost twenty minutes for the green light.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” said the asari with chagrin as she waved at the human seated on the gatehouse to let them pass.

This happened, as predicted, four times in total. Each check-point was infuriating as it was boring and frustrating, but Garrus tried to remind himself that it was just as tiring for the soldiers as for them. It wasn’t their fault. They were just doing their jobs.

“You’re free to go,” said a turian soldier at the last stop. “I apologize for the inconvenience.”

Garrus and his team understood, though they were too annoyed to say it out loud.

“Thank spirits that’s over,” Syrus grumbled as the gate shut behind them, evidently locking them inside the wall block.

Garrus nodded and led them to the side, where they huddled together in a circle.

“Okay,” he said. “We’ve lost a lot of time in the bureaucratic hell as it is, so… you, Syrus, and Calah, I want you to head over to communications. We’ve heard they’ve been having trouble with their controls. I want to know _everything_. Knock their heads if they don’t cooperate.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tavis and I, we’ll talk to Aprius. He’s in charge of this block. I don’t know how much he knows, but if he doesn’t, we’ll go to the east block and check there.”

The other turians nodded in assent.

“Good. We have four hours to get everything done. Remember, we have to get back to Prima before the sun goes down. I doubt they’ll break curfew for us.”

The team split up; Syrus and Calah stayed on the ground floor and headed directly towards the communication central, while Tavis and Garrus walked over to a turian in dark-green armor fiddling with a console.

"Aprius?"

The grey plated turian looked up, mandibles spread wide in surprise. His colony markings were of a soft orange and painted on his forehead and side of his face. 

"Yes?"

"I'm Vakarian, this is Tavis. I was told you're in charge here?"

"I am, sir. But only for this block. The other block - that one, on the other side - is under Lidia's command."

"We've heard you were in trouble."

"We've been in trouble for the last six months, sir," Aprius replied with an irritated growl. He crossed his arms. "May I ask why you're here? Primarch Latus said you were coming, but he didn't explain why."

Garrus tilted his head slightly upwards. "Then why didn't you ask?"

"If he wasn't telling me out of his own, then I wasn't going to ask. It wasn't my place," he said.

Garrus' mandibles shifted slightly and he looked briefly at the young turian by his side. He would talk with Tavis about asking questions later.

"Latus said the outer wall was destroyed two weeks ago. Is it fixed already?" he asked.

Aprius chuckled half-heartedly. With a tilt of his head, he motioned them to follow him and lead them over a bridge, then up a narrow staircase to the second wall.

"We had fixed it," he said wryly. He waved his hand at the destruction zone in front of them. "They came back yesterday."

"Spirits..." Tavis gasped with a tremble in his flanging voice.

Garrus agreed quietly.

The outer wall, a giant of 15 meters heights and six meters thick, had several craters of the size of a reaper stumped into it. It seemed that, whatever had caused this destruction, the krogan had swept inside from multiple ends at the same time, making it impossible to defend completely. Now a thick sheet of synth covered now the opening, but that would not do if - when they were attacked again. 

"You say it happened yesterday? Why didn't we hear anything about the attack?" Garrus asked.

Aprius shrugged tiredly. "I'm sure it wasn't the only attack yesterday. It stopped being newsworthy three months ago," he added. "Now we're trying not to lose any more territory to them. After Satah and Ilva were conquered-" His voice broke and he averted his gaze.

"You were there when you had to leave?" Tavis asked quietly.

He nodded. "Me and my - my protégé, we were in Ilva, when the krogan and salarians came," he said dully. "We were - we were unprepared. I don't think there's ever been such a humiliating, bad excuse for a battle before."

"Where you there when our military tried to reconquer the cities?" asked Garrus.

The officer whirled around, his eyes glowing wide. A deep, unfriendly rumble drummed through his subharmonics. "What?" He shook his head and spoke again, before they could say anything. "There's... there has never been an attempt to reconquer Ilva or Satah! _That's a_ _lie_!"

Garrus and Tavis blinked, their mandibles twitched nervously.

"But the Council said-"

Aprius laughed over the youngest turian's stammering. "The Council lied. _Everyone_ lied!" he yelled. "Latus gave the order to attack our cities to kick the krogan out, but he got a call from Victus _and_ the Council, telling him to avoid confrontation at any cost. And that same night they said that the krogan could stay in Satah and Ilva and that it belonged to them."

Garrus was shaking his head. "Then you didn't bomb their settlements?"

"Of course we did!" Aprius replied. "We can't get our cities back, but we can destroy their other settlements. We can't just stand back while they take what's ours!"

"No... we really can't..." Garrus whispered.

Tavis growled and crossed his arms, looking at his captain. "So the media's lying? Everything has been a cover up?"

"Yeah, something like that," he said. He brushed a hand over Tavis shoulder. "This needs to make the news."

"It will be probably the biggest scandal since Saren went rogue," Aprius commented.

"As it should," Garrus gritted, his mandibles clicked tight to his face as he breathed in. His eyes wandered back to the destroyed wall. People were tumbling down there, trying to fix the wall as quickly and efficiently as possible. They weren't even halfway done.

"They really did a lot of damage..." he said quietly.

"I don't understand!" Tavis rubbed his neck. "The wall was supposed to hold! How many times did they bomb the walls to get in?"

Aprius gave the young turian a long look. "Once," he said.

Garrus and Tavis stared at him, mandibles slack against their faces. The turian officer laughed at their shock.

"Yeah," he said dryly. "That's what we thought, too. Now... well, now we're just frustrated and scared."

"How-"

"Vakarian!"

The turian in question looked back, only to see Syrus running up to meet them.

"What is it, Syrus?"

Syrus pressed a hand to his chest. He was panting. "Scanners... scanners report something's heading our way."

They all froze at the news.

"How many?" Aprius hissed.

"Hard to say," was the reply. He shrugged and turned to Garrus. "The devices aren't working very well. Must be the salarians meddling with the signals again."

Garrus sighed, exhausted even before the battle had a chance to really begin, and ran a hand over his face. Aprius and Syrus were exchanging theories, strategies. Tavis watched him expectantly.

"Okay..." he said, with a firm nod. He looked at Aprius. "Tell your men to secure the wall, but the main focus has to be on keeping them away. Syrus, tell Calah to contact the Primarch and request-"

They didn't have a chance to take cover before a gun shot, sudden, loud and out of nowhere, made everyone jump. Syrus grunted, the breath being literally shot from his armored chest. He stumbled back, hand reaching for the wound, and fell down the stairs. Garrus' scream caught in his throat as he reached out to help his friend. There was a snap on Garrus' side, very similar to a metallic rain drop. He looked, eyes wide, subharmonics trilling loudly. Aprius gasped as he looked down. His mandibles were spread out in shock and fear. Something happened; he stepped on something, probably, because his leg was blown off his body and the force of the explosion threw him against the wall.

Garrus opened his eyes, but it was slow, and his entire body ached. He groaned and turned to his side. His eyes narrowed as something dropped from the sky a meter from him.

It was an insignificant looking device; shaped like a fishing hook, it was barely the size of half a thermal clip. It lay still on the ground before Garrus. He stared at it with a numb mind as if he was entranced by a snake’s gaze. Then it started to vibrate, but so faintly at first that it looked as if a breeze was moving it. With a grunt, Garrus felt himself being dragged away by his cowl; and in good time, because that hook exploded with more ferocity than expected from such a small, insignificant thing. The heat and strength behind it sent whoever was saving his miserable self, falling. Garrus himself was shoved away by the explosion. Debris rained down on them, and he curled into himself, arms slung over his head.

The unbearable high note drilling in his ears slowly gave way to the sound of battle. Garrus groaned, uncurling carefully. He looked around in a feverlike daze. It was hard to focus, to even think.

“Commander!”

That flanging voice belonged to Tavis, who was now screaming at Garrus to get up. Was he hurt? Probably not, or he wouldn’t now be dragging his commander away and screaming words.

The world seized to blur. Garrus shook himself and slapped Tavis’ hands away.

“Commander!” Tavis shouted over the noise. “Are you hurt?”

He answered with a shake of his head and crawled to his knees. He checked is his guns and armor were damaged, before he looked up and focused on the mess they were in.

“What’s the status, soldier?”

Tavis blinked and stared at him for a second too long. He coughed as he got an impatient growl from Garrus.

“Syrus fell down the stairs. He… he was shot, I – I think. Aprius… well, his leg got caught in one of those hooks. I think he’s dead.”

Garrus nodded. “And Calah?”

“She was fine. She contacted me, while you were unconscious,” he said.

His mandibles flickered. “When was I unconscious?” asked Garrus loudly.

“Just now, sir,” Tavis explained with a concerned hum. He studied his form with obvious worry, checking for any serious injuries. “Aprius caught the most of it with his leg, but the explosion was strong enough to throw you…”

“It’s okay, we can talk about it later,” Garrus shushed him. “First, we have to-”

Another hook dropped beside them. Tavis cried out and, with a swipe with his assault rifle, kicked the thing away. Garrus nodded in gratitude.

“How many seconds until those things blow up?”

“5… 7 seconds the most,” Tavis replied quickly.

“Good. Be careful where you step. And watch where you throw these things. We don’t want to hit our own people.”

“What’s the plan, sir?”

“Keep them from coming in. Without dying, if possible.”

The young turian laughed shakily. “If possible… that’s reassuring…”

*

Tavis and Garrus were separated during the course of the battle. One moment the young turian was by his side, and in the next when Garrus found the time to check on him, he was gone and Garrus was in the outer wall, right where the krogan had blown a hole in.

The aim was to keep the northern block from being overrun, and staying alive to write a report about the battle later. Both were becoming extremely difficult as the minutes dragged on.

In the back of his mind, Garrus supposed that not much time had passed since they started fighting. An hour tops.

Garrus hadn’t been in a battle like this since the end of the Reaper War and he found that he missed the peaceful years. The noise of war didn’t bother him, but the smell of ash and blood did; it disoriented him, made him believe up was down and a krogan was running away instead of running towards him.

Which was the case right now. He was just recovering from another near-death experience (a cunning salarian had shot him and systematically shattered his shields, before he’d been able to kill that moron). The air was thick and hot. The scent of blood and smoke burned his nostrils and made his eyes water. He wiped a hand over his face. When his eyes were free to see, it was only to watch, dumbly, a massive krogan storm in his direction.

At first Garrus thought he was running away. A second later, his heart dropped to his stomach, when he realized he was very, very wrong. He raised his gun and shot. Once. Twice. The krogan roared and threw himself against the turian, sending them both crashing to the ground.

 _Shit_ , Garrus thought.

He swung his fist. The krogan choked as it collided against his narrowed eye. But he lashed the turian’s arm away like one would wave away a fly. He snarled and slapped Garrus as if he was a petulant child. Garrus growled.

The krogan pressed him to the floor, his paw squeezing the sensitive mandible. Garrus growled, tasting the dirt, and clawed at him, but he was pinned to the ground. He was going to die. He was going to die like this. He didn't want to die like this.  
  
The two stared at each other, Garrus unwilling, unable, to look anywhere but at the krogan. He would not stop fighting, Garrus promised himself. Surrende was shameful. He could not surrender like this.

Something in the krogan's eyes shifted. They were of a light amber. His scowl softened.

"Stop fighting, turian," he growled lowly, squeezing his mandibles tighter. Garrus cried out, but the krogan's hand muffled it.

"N-never!" he growled viciously.

"I have an offer to make," the other said.

"S-stick it up your ass," Garrus spat.

He chuckled and released his face, but kept Garrus' body pinned to the floor.

"I have an offer to make. One that will stop this mess we're both in."

"I don't believe you. I don't trust you."

"It's okay. I don't trust you either," the krogan said. "I've got information. And the conviction to give it to you."

Garrus, unconsciously, stopped struggling against his hold. "What's the price?”

The krogan snorted and shook his head. "There is no price, unless you want to kill me. Then I'd say you better keep me alive or you won't know shit."

He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Impossible. Everyone wants something," he objected. "There's got to be something you want in exchange."

"So, you accept my offer," the krogan grinned.

Garrus scowled. "I didn't say that!"

"You're talking about conditions. You must be thinking about it."

"Yeah, whatever." He hesitated. "What's your name?" he asked. "I'd like to know the name of the krogan, who's on top of me."

The krogan laughed. "Baxihr. You?"

"You can call me Vakarian."

Baxihr nodded. "So, _Vakarian_ , want to talk now?"

"I'd love to. But first let me go."

"Nah. You'll just reach for your gun and shoot me just in case."

"I'm a _turian_ ," Garrus snapped. "And why would I shoot you while you've got what I want? That makes no sense! Besides, if my friends see you holding me down, they _will_ shoot you."

The other shrugged and released Garrus from his strong hold.

"One never knows with your enemies," Baxihr said. He nudged his head at him. "So, you're going to listen?"

"Yeah, yeah…"

“Okay.” The krogan moved his hand to point at a mostly flat chunk of rock that had been blown off the wall.

It was weird. The image they portrayed, didn’t fit with the chaotic fighting surrounding them. They sat on the improvised bench, their weapons alert in their hands, but with their legs hanging almost lazily down. The armor showed they were warriors, experienced warriors, but their posture and the companionable manners made them look like two old men reminiscing about the good old days. Luckily, everyone was so busy trying to kill the other without getting shot in the process that no one payed attention to the krogan and the turian sitting side by side and – seemingly – chatting.

“So, what do you got for me?” asked Garrus.

Baxihr checked if he had enough thermal clips, then lowered his shot gun again.

"Are we allies?" he demanded to know. 

“Fine, okay… yes. We’re allies,” he agreed gruffly and shouldered his rifle. “Okay, shoot.”

A krogan loomed over the edge of a wall. He let out a shout when he saw Garrus and Baxihr “chatting” without killing each other. Baxihr rolled his eyes. He aimed his weapon at the other krogan and pulled the trigger twice. The krogan gurgled, blood spitting from his throat, and fell over the edge. Baxihr sighed and turned back to the turian.

“His name is Sakkem,” Baxihr said, his gun clicking as he reloaded it. “He’s from Tuchanka. I’m not sure what he did there, but he moved to Rubrum about two years ago and since then… well, you know the story.”

Garrus tasted the name on his tongue. “Sakkem… never heard of him before,” he muttered.

The krogan chuckled dryly. “That’s because no one survives him,” he said. “Even _I_ don’t know what he looks like. But I’ve heard people, who did… experienced warriors, who say he’s better than Urdnot Wrex.”

“They’re probably exaggerating. Wouldn’t be the first time that happens.”

“Nah, I don’t think so. I know a guy, he’s too stupid to lie. I believe him.”

“Anything else?” the turian asked with a hint of impatience in his subvocals. 

“There’s a rumor about turian prisoners,” Baxihr said and looked at the other in the eyes. “I think it’s true.”

Garrus felt himself tense. His mandibles drew tight to his face as he took a deep breath. “We heard the same rumor. I was hoping it was a lie.”

“Rumors rarely are,” the krogan said.

There was a brief silence between them, while the battle around them raged on.

“Yeah, well…” Baxihr groaned as he jumped from the improvised bench. He paused, hesitated for a brief second, and then turned to face Garrus, his gaze somber; worried.

“I will message you. Whatever happens, don’t contact me, you hear?” the krogan insisted. “We meet when _I_ say so, and you’ll get information. Maybe even a plan, I don’t know. Haven’t thought much further than that.”

“Well that’s comforting,” Garrus muttered, but offered his hand to the krogan. “Good luck,” he said, awkwardly.

Baxihr made his way to leave. He stopped before the exit.

“I’ll message you in a few weeks. Don’t leave the planet,” he growled.

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” Garrus replied.

The two parted ways, Baxihr fighting his way back outside the wall, while Garrus stayed behind to get rid of the rest, who had decided to stay and fight.

A few minutes had passed like this, shooting, reloading, ducking, shooting again, when he finally caught sight of familiar faces.

Calah and Tavis were fighting their way to the outer wall, backing up the struggling soldiers on their side. The two moved swiftly, but there was a certain slowness after each movement that showed how tired they truly were.

Tavis shot, teeth gnashing, and a salarian fell dead. He turned and met Garrus’ eyes. His mandibles flared in a turian grin.

“Commander!” he shouted cheerfully.

Calah whirled around, frowning as she looked for him. She laughed when she noticed him standing close to the broken wall. Her grin stiffened into a baring of teeth as she shot at a krogan, only stopping when he stopped moving.

Garrus opened his mouth to shout back, when he was hit by the full force of an armored krogan. He didn’t have the breath to cry out as the monster fell on him, but he did, when it grabbed him by the fringe. The krogan’s ugly face, a diabolical grimace with blood dripping from his snout, hovered above him. He pressed a knife to his throat and began sliding it to the side. It was a slow cutting, almost tenderly done. It hurt. Blood poured out of the slim line. Garrus managed to free an arm. He scratched, punched, kicked and slapped, but the krogan only laughed.

Why was it always Garrus being on the ground and not the krogan? This was _so_ not his day.

He heard, somewhere far away, a female scream. He didn’t hear the gun shots that followed that high pitched sound, but he did witness how Tavis and Calah jumped on the krogan. Garrus scrambled to his feet, a hand snatching his lost weapon and shooting drowsily at the scattered intruders. Medigel kicked in, closing the bleeding wound, soothing the pain, but the sensation of the blade on his skin remained. He looked back as soon as the last enemy fell dead.

“Anybody hurt?” he asked once he had regained his breath.

Calah gave the dead krogan a last shot in the face, more out of anger than necessity. Tavis was scavenging through the fallen debris.

She ran a hand over a mandible. She looked tired. There was blood and dirt smudged over her graceful red clan markings.

“Shouldn’t we ask you that? You were the one with the blade to his throat,” she huffed.

“I’m alright,” he waved her off and then turned to Tavis. “And you?”

“I’m fine all things considered.”

Garrus flicked a mandible. “And what are you doing now?”

“I was… trying to salvage something, but this console is…” He threw a twisted set of cables against the nearest wall. “…useless.”

“We still got our lives,” Calah pointed out. “We should… we should look for the injured.”

“What about the krogan?” Tavis asked with a thin rumble, glancing at Garrus.

He hesitated. “We’ll load their bodies into a shuttle and send it to them,” he answered after a brief pause.

The female turian frowned. “Is that a good idea?”

He shrugged. He was tired. “I seriously don’t know, but if we don’t, we risk them coming back to bury their dead,” he said, blinking away the headache flickering behind his eyes. “But let’s leave that for later. We have to focus on our own now.”

Almost everyone on the outer wall was dead, and the few who weren’t, were gravely injured. They applied medigel and the basic first aid, but it wasn’t enough. Calah called the healers over, but it took a few minutes until they reached them. The rest of their time they spent cleaning up the battle scene. Covering the dead with white sheets. Rolling away the large chunks that had crumbled from the buildings and were blocking the entrances.

The contact to their capital city had been lost during the fight and they were still having massive problems trying to reawaken it. Garrus sent Calah to them, but with a pinch to his heart as he remembered that under normal circumstances, he would’ve sent Syrus instead of her.

“What a mess…” Tavis muttered darkly, as he and his commander walked upstairs to take care of that area.

Garrus patted his back comfortingly, but he was felling quite terrible himself. His throat was a bit sore still from the blade and his head was a bit heavy from the explosion even earlier.

Two hours after applying what little of medigel they had left to the injured, covering the dead and pushing the debris away, Garrus got the first good news since they arrived.

“Commander!” Tavis cried out.

Garrus ran to him, gasped and knelt beside him, when he saw the young turian holding Aprius.

“Call the healers immediately,” Garrus rasped, pressing his gloved hands to the deep gash on the turian’s shoulder. He looked at the broken body of this man, his eyes frantically darting from one end to the other.

Aprius was missing a leg. The battle had left him with a broken arm and most likely a severe concussion. Garrus couldn’t tell for sure, but he was pretty certain his ribs were knocked and broken as well. There was blood everywhere.

Garrus unhooked the armor plate that protected his leg and ripped part of his pants’ fabric. He then proceeded to take off the turian’s armor to facilitate the healer’s job. He wrapped the fabric above the bleeding stump as tightly as his shaky hands could manage.

“Dear spirits…” he heard Tavis whisper as he returned to Garrus’ side.

“Is he going to make it?” the young turian asked quietly.

Garrus looked at him, but couldn’t answer. Luckily, the healers approached and carried Aprius away.

“Will he make it?”

Garrus clenched his mandibles. “We’ll see, Tavis,” he said, his tone forbidding to pursue the topic further.

The two went on about their duties. Salvaging what could be salvaged, unblocking the entrances and applying what little medigel they had left to the injured.

To their surprise and relief, they found Syrus sitting comfortably on a chair and being attended by a female turian and an asari. He had a bottle of beer in his hand. His armor was dented where he had been shot and had several scratches where his body had hit the stairs. He looked well, considering he had been dead to Garrus and Tavis until now.

“Syrus?” Tavis cried out incredulously.

The older turian looked up in surprise. He had a hand on the turian’s thigh, but he stood up, when his team mates ran up to him.

“I see you made it out alive,” he grinned. “Except you, Vakarian. You look like you’ve been hit by a Mako!”

“I was hit several times,” Garrus answered flippantly, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he stared at Syrus. “We thought you were dead.”

Syrus took a gulp from the bear. “I did so, too, for a moment,” he admitted with a light shrug. “I even considered playing dead just to not bother with standing up… I tell you, falling down 30 steps is not pleasant.”

“But you didn’t stay down, right?”

“No… I was getting bored,” he replied lightly and sat back down, when his legs started to tremble. The asari handed him another beer. “Thank you, dear,” he said, patting her thigh.

Garrus stared at him. Anger boiled inside him. He wanted to grab that stupid beer bottle and stuff it down his throat. “Syrus…”

The tension in his subharmonics made the aforementioned look up. He cleared his throat. With a sharp nudge of his head, both the turian female and the asari left. He put aside the full beer bottle and got to his feet.

“I apologize for my behavior, Commander,” he said. “The battle and the gunshot have left me feeling lightheaded.”

Garrus sighed deeply. His head ached. He needed to get himself checked in the infirmary. After he’d taken care of the rest, of course.

He waved a hand. “At ease, soldier…” He sighed again.

He walked over to Syrus and sat down next to him. Syrus handed him the beer and he downed it in one go. Once the bottle was empty, he threw it into the trash bag in front of them, leaned back and closed his eyes. His head thrummed.

“Sir, you should go to the infirmary,” Tavis said, hands reaching out to steady him as Garrus wavered in his seat. “You got hit pretty hard.”

“When?” asked Syrus.

“After you were shot, remember? One of those things fell from the sky and exploded. It took Aprius’ leg and threw Garrus against the wall. He was unconscious for a minute or so.”

The older turian frowned and looked at Garrus.

“Sir…” he began carefully. He shook his head and nodded at Tavis. “Call a nurse over, kid,” he said to him. “He needs to get looked at.”

Tavis, not pleased with being called ‘kid’, glared at the other turian, but one look from Syrus, and all retorts were discarded for the moment.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” he promised and rushed away, leaving the others for themselves.

“You could treat him better,” Garrus muttered.

“The kid has a lot to learn,” Syrus replied. “He’s good, but he can be better.”

“Hmm… but that’s what life is for, isn’t it? To learn to get better?”

He shrugged. “Maybe… still… something about him puts me off…” He hesitated, turned a quick, assessing glance at Garrus, before he continued. “Calah thinks the same…”

“You mean his clan markings?”

“Well… maybe… but it’s not only that,” he said and sighed. “It’s… it’s a feeling. Intuition if you will. It’s never betrayed me before.”

It was Garrus’ turn to sigh. He rubbed his temples. “There’s a lot more to him than he’s willing to share,” he said with a low rumble in his subvocals. “His clan markings did put me off at first, and I still think they’re-”

“-wrong?”

“I – it wasn’t the word I was going for, but whatever…” Garrus groaned. His fingers fiddled with the clasps of his armor plate. He needed to get it off. “I trust you, Syrus. Do you trust me?”

“With my life, Commander,” Syrus said, because the sun is hot and space is freezing cold.

“Then trust me. Tavis is a good guy… a good turian. And he’s got a lot of potential. In time he will reveal what’s wrong with him,” he said.

Syrus sighed and helped Garrus to get out of his chest plate. He placed it carefully on the ground.

“Perhaps he’ll never tell us,” he suggested. “Maybe it’s something shameful. Dishonorable. I’d sure not tell anybody if that was the case.”

He shook Garrus and frowned.

“Sir?”

Garrus’ body leaned dangerously forward. Syrus held him back.

“Sir? _Commander!_ Nurse?!”

Garrus dropped to the floor, Syrus’ arms pillowing his fall, just as Tavis returned with medical assistance.

  
*

_Present day_

_Tuchanka - Docking Bay_

_Approx. 15:43_

*

Their welcome in Tuchanka was much colder than when they arrived in Palaven, which was fairly disappointing considering Shepard was partially responsible for the cure of the genophage. She hadn’t expected cheers and a welcoming party, but was acknowledgement really too much to expect?

Their walk from the shuttle was quiet as they took in their surroundings. Neither Solana nor Vega had been in Tuchanka before, but Jane had, and the changes were… breathtaking.

Gone were the ruins. Tall, sturdy buildings surrounded the area.

There were a lot more krogan around than before, too. And Shepard couldn’t tell if it was only her paranoia manifesting itself, but they seemed a lot angrier than before.

For a moment, Shepard regretted not having taken Liara with her and chosen instead Solana to join her ground team. This was a gross mistake from her side. Why did she think this was a good idea? Taking a _turian_ into the _krogan_ homeworld, when the two races were in the midst of a pre-war scenario… stupid.

They were greeted by a guard, and ordered to head up to the throne room, where Wrex was supposedly waiting for them. Emphasis on supposedly; the krogan guard had clarified that Wrex was so busy with rebuilding their culture that he rarely had time for anything that didn’t have to do with anything else.

“Huh, so they were expecting us. Who would’ve thought?” Vega threw a mistrustful glare at a passing group of young krogan and loaded his gun just in case.

“Let’s just hope that Wrex is where he’s supposed to be,” Shepard sighed, then straightened her back and stomped deeper into the city.

“He will show up, right?” the turian asked, keeping her voice consciously low.

“Wrex isn’t the type to run from challenges or danger,” Shepard answered firmly. “He’ll show up, even if it’s to fight.”

Solana’s brow plates furrowed. “Are you expecting one?”

The commander stopped abruptly. Making sure no one was listening, she waved her team closer.

“You never know,” she murmured. “Wrex is a good guy and reasonable. The others, however…”

Solana exhaled slowly. “Okay…”

Vega slapped her back. “It’ll work out just fine, Sol. We’re just here for a friendly chat. It’ll be over before you notice.”

His attempt at cheering her up, drew a chuckle from the turian and even Shepard managed a smile. She turned back to her dear friend.

“Just don’t lose your head,” she advised. “Don’t mention the genophage. Or the krogan rebellions.” They reached the hall to the throne room and halted shortly before the door. “In fact, I think it’s be best if you don’t say anything at all.”

“Understood, Commander.”

“See it as a learning experience,” Vega said. “Whatever happens in the next hour can’t be worse than being attacked by Reapers.”

Shepard laughed and shook her head. “Don’t jinx it. With our luck it’ll be just that.”

“You’re negative attitude isn’t helping much either, Lola.”

She raised a brow. “I prefer the term realist. It’s harder to be disappointed if you expect the worst.”

“You’re a pessimistic realist, then,” he quipped. “Your focus determines your reality and stuff, you know?”

This time, her laugh was light and earnest. “Quoting ‘Star Wars’… but I guess you’re right…”

“Star Wars…” Solana hummed thoughtfully. “That’s your super film franchise, isn’t it?”

The two humans laughed.

“You brought this unto yourself, Sol,” Shepard called out as she noticed Vega’s chest puff in excitement. “Don’t blame it on me.”

“Hey, come on.” James nudged her shoulder and grinned. “It’s part of our heritage, Lola.”

“Oh, I know. But I’m not so deep into it that I can’t see how overwhelming some fans can be when they introduce others to the movies.”

He snorted. “Overwhelming…”

Solana rubbed her neck. “Uh, I don’t understand what you two are talking about.”

“Just wait,” Vega said. “As soon as we’re back on the Normandy, I’ll send you the files of the original trilogy.”

“Shouldn’t you start with the prequels, though?” Shepard asked.

“Nah, she won’t want to watch anymore after everyone dies.”

“Everyone dies?!” Solana tilted her head back. “I’m not sure I like that…”

“You know turians are more into the strategy, war kind of movies than a coming-of-age and classic hero’s journey movie,” Jane pointed out to James. “The prequels are more about politics and clone armies and stuff…”

“I have nothing against a good old classic hero movie,” the turian interjected.

“Sure, but if anything, you should watch ‘em as they were filmed. The original trilogy, then the prequels, the sequels, so on and so on.”

Shepard pressed her lips together. “I prefer watching them in chronological order of the story. Meaning, the prequels first, then ‘Rogue One’, the original trilogy…”

“Yeah, but not all of them are _good_ , Lola,” he said. “I don’t want to scare her off.”

“It’s part of the experience,” she replied with a shrug. “I know a guy, who prefers the prequels over the OT, and I know another guy, who hated the sequels.”

Solana huffed. “Shouldn’t I be the one to judge on that? You are talking about me, after all.”

Vega shrugged. “Sure, but we’ve experienced it already. We want to make the experience for you as memorable as possible.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks, but isn’t how someone experiences something always subjective?”

“It is in most cases,” Jane agreed.

James closed his mouth, his retort cut off, when the krogan bid them enter. The heavy, metallic door heaved open and bright light blinded them as they entered.

The first thing they saw was a wide, bullet-proof window. Wrex' throne was in the middle of the room, surrounded by the watchful eyes of heavily armored krogan warriors. Their armors differed from the normal ones worn by the common krogan, for they were richly ornated. Shepard guessed it was a krogan tradition Wrex was bringing back. The throne was free; Wrex stood by the window with his back turned to them. He must have know they were coming. 

Shepard placed herself beside her old krogan friend and gazed with him at the impressive view before them. “I see work’s been keeping you busy,” she observed.

A deep, growling chuckle reverberated through his chest. “And we’re not near finished yet.”

A brow arched, a teasing smile curled her lips. “Maybe you should tone down the breeding a bit? That should give you enough time to finish with the reconstructions,” she suggested with a teasing glint in her eyes.

Her words drew a laugh out of Wrex, something which pleased the commander a lot. He slapped her back. “We have to catch up on all the centuries we’ve lost thanks to the genophage,” he said. “Besides, Shepard, you forget: more people, more workers. And more workers means the sooner everything will be done.”

“Never thought I’d see the day you sound like a politician,” Jane said with a small smile.

“Me neither,” he replied darkly and fell silent.

The quiet that followed their brief conversation was not uncomfortable, but the expectations of the matter that needed to be discussed, and would be, weighted heavily on them.

“I see you got yourself a new turian,” Wrex said, breaking the silence as he tilted his massive head at the female turian standing at attention beside Vega.

“That’s Solana,” Shepard answered nonchalantly, casting an inquisitive look at him from the side. She studied him carefully, waiting for his reaction. “She’s Garrus’ sister.”

His face stayed the same. “Another Vakarian, huh? Didn’t think the galaxy could stand any more.”

She chuckled. “There’s three of them. Four if you count me as one,” she said with a shrug.

The leathery skin atop his nose curled slightly. “You? A Vakarian?” He snorted. “Nah. You’re Shepard.”

“Yes… but I am Garrus’ wife. Bondmate. Or whatever you’d like to call it.” Her eyebrows narrowed, wrinkling the spot between them. She placed a hand on her hip. “Do you know where he is?”

He cast her a side-glance, his red eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking me? You know where he is,” he said.

“So you _know_ where he is.”

“Did I say that?”

“No, but the fact that you didn’t answer my question was answer enough,” Shepard pointed out with a low hiss. This was the wrong moment to lose her patience.

“It’s good to hear that you pay attention to what I say. Most people miss either the first part or tune out during the last bit,” he said and shook his head. “I know where he is. My… contacts informed me about it. He’s on Prima.”

“Do you know why he’s there?”

He snorted. “Considering all that’s happened lately, you’d have to be pretty stupid to guess wrong. I also know why _you_ are here,” he said roughly as Shepard opened her mouth to speak again. He turned away from her and walked down the stairs of the podium, ignoring the shameless glare Solana send him on his way. “And to answer your next question, no. No, I have nothing to do with Sakkem and his horde of varren-brain morons.”

“I’ve heard his name before…” Shepard mused. “He’s the guy behind all this?”

“Yeah…”

Shepard crossed her arms and took a deep breath. She felt her face heat with anger. “Did you know about this, Wrex?”

“Of course, I did,” he gritted after a hesitant quiet. “I’m not stupid!”

“I didn’t say you were!” she snapped.

“What do you expect me to do?”

“To man up and do what you always do!” she shouted back and stomped.

Wrex growled dangerously and took a step towards her, his fist stopping short before her face. Solana and James cried out and pointed their guns at him, the other guards aiming at them in response. Shepard blinked once, but she wasn’t afraid, only angry and disappointed; her hand flinched to cover her stomach instinctively. Wrex noticed this and lowered his fist slowly, his eyes wandering from her face, down to her belly and up again to look into her eyes, his fury gone. Shepard hated the understanding in his eyes more than the anger he’d had in them before. She wanted to punch him.

Shepard raised a hand and her team mates lowered their weapons hesitantly, but didn’t holster them. The krogan guards did the same.

The two leaders stared at each other hard for a few minutes, neither willing to break the eye contact.

Finally, Wrex grunted and shook his head.

“This is bullshit,” he said and sat back on his throne. “I don’t have to hear this.”

Shepard fisted her hands and forced herself to exhale calmly.

“You don’t have another choice, Wrex,” she said, walking over to him, stopping at the lowest step of the throne podium. “People are pissed! And afraid! What do you expect will happen if you don’t act?”

The krogan laughed lowly. “They’re not the only ones who’re mad,” he said. “Look outside, everyone’s pissed. And no one bothers to listen or wait.”

Shepard fell silent and looked at him, really looked at him.

“Have there been problems lately?” she asked softly.

“More than before, I guess,” he answered with a shrug. “The year has been… challenging, let me put it like that.”

“What happened?” she asked with a light frown.

He shrugged again. “I told you, people being their usual idiots,” he said. “They’re forgetting that… ugh, who cares anymore. They’d much rather kill others than stay and fight for our future, you know?”

“There’s been fights breaking out all over Tuchanka,” he said suddenly, his words rushed as if he was afraid he’d stop before he could finish. “It’s been getting worse and worse… People still fear me, but it’s – it’s only a matter of time until they change their minds…”

He sighed. “All I ever wanted was to fix Tuchanka. But maybe my people don’t want a future…”

Silence fell heavy and stretched endlessly, while Shepard thought what she could say. She was still angry, but more than anything else, she felt sorry for Wrex. To be in his position… Wrex was a good man. He deserved better.

“I believe in your vision, Wrex”, Shepard said loudly as she stepped up on the podium of his throne. “I believe in it since you told me about it during the fight with the Collectors. I might not… _understand_ some cultural things, but if there’s someone who could unite the clans it’s you.”

Wrex exhaled deeply, his red eyes watching her intently. He was so alien to her, not like Liara or Garrus, whom she had learned to read with time. Krogan looked always angry or threatening, even when they were happy. There was a glint in his eyes, though. A helpless, almost resigned glint characteristic of someone who has experienced too many disappointments.

“Shepard…” For a blink of a moment, Wrex was at loss for words. “We are just recovering from thousand years of suffering and destruction-”

“I understand.”

“Hmpf... You humans and your sympathies.” Wrex shook his head. “The genophage and the rebellions before that almost destroyed our race. The only way to recover and reclaim our place in the galaxy-”

“-started when you fought against the Reapers,” Shepard interjected. Her voice was firm. “We talked about this many times before, Wrex. Your condition to help defend Palaven against the Reapers was to find a cure against the genophage. Mordin _sacrificed_ himself to see it happen. We kept our word on both sides.” She took a respectful step back. “This is excuse is no longer valid in my eyes. I’m sorry.”

“That’s your problem, Shepard,” the krogan leader replied. “To you it’s a finished business, but for us it’s an ongoing process.” He waved a hand, pointing at the view from his throne room. The guards were still, breathing heavily, their powerful hands gripping their weapons tighter. “You’ve seen Tuchanka. The Reapers have not spared us either and our resources have been neglected, misused during the time of chaos.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Sakkem is a madman. I should’ve ripped his head off when I had the chance. But he was popular with the people.” He grunted and shook his shoulders. “He has a way of speaking… he’s dangerous… has no principles, but he hides it well.”

“Garrus said that something is riling them up. It’s Sakkem, isn’t it?”

Wrex slammed his fist into the marble of the armrest. The entire seat shook.

“That turian-blooded sun of a bitch!” he growled, his claws digging into his palm as he restrained himself from breaking anything. When that didn’t work, he jumped from the throne and slammed his fist into a frail looking, lonely column that had seen better days. It crumbled like old bread, its crumbs hitting the floor with a dull sound.

“He’s taking our inheritance, our traditions and history and twists it around into something he wants!”

Wrex was pacing, every movement was violent, a threat. If he swung his arms to the side only once, he’d be punching Shepard in the face. Solana’s subvocals trilled nervously and she moved to shield her sister-in-law. Shepard put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a look. The female turian stepped back reluctantly.

“What’s he been saying?” Shepard asked over the krogan’s growls. “What does he want?”

“Hell if I know, Shepard,” he barked back. Wrex shook his head. “That’s a lie. He says the krogan shouldn’t be ‘covering’ in Tuchanka. Says we should be concentrating on purifying our bloodlines and then start with conquering the turian colonies.”

Solana started in alarm. She opened her mouth, but the commander beat her to it. Giving the turian a warning glance, she stepped forward again, dodging Wrex elegantly as he prowled past her.

“So, you _knew_ about his plans and you _let him_ settle on Prima?” Shepard stared at him, mouth agape. She rubbed her forehead. “Dear God, Wrex! What- _why?_ It’s only caused more problems for everyone!”

Wrex made a throw-away motion with his buff arm. He stayed silent. Solana glared daggers at him. Her fingers twitched. She yearned to hold her gun.

“I needed him gone from Tuchanka,” he said lowly, eyes glinting viciously. “Seemed like a reasonable compromise at the time…”

Shepard wasn’t finished yet.

She puffed a loose strand from her face. “You know how much people dislike you! Most people were already against curing the genophage and the public opinion has gotten lower and lower since word got out that the krogan conquered parts of a turian colony!” Shepard grasped her head. “Wrex… _Wrex_ , I know you don’t want to hear it, but public opinion matters. I’m sorry, but it does. It matters. And you not answering to Victus’ messages really hasn’t helped. Why didn’t you answer? You’re only adding fuel to the fire. Newspapers are all talking about how the ‘the great Urdnot Wrex is too afraid to do anything’ or to – I don’t know…”

Wrex slumped back on his throne, an elbow on the armrest, the other hand covering his eyes.

“Why do you think I let him leave?” he asked quietly. “I was all for killing him and getting rid of the problem.” He laughed unhappily, an angry, frustrated sound that echoed in the room. “He was annoying, aggressive without a reason. Hmpf… He wouldn’t stop challenging me or his superiors. Killed a couple of them even, but that’s not the problem. If they were too weak to win, then they weren’t the right people for the position anyway.” He shook his head to refocus. “I wanted to kill him, but Bakara got a warning from the female clan. Saying something about his krantt being too powerful, too widespread to win in a fight.”

Shepard sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Seems even the krogan are not exempt from influence of the masses…”

He grunted, looking away. “It was the most degrading moment in my life,” he confessed in a hushed whisper. He clawed the armrests, the screech of the sound making the turian and the humans squirm uncomfortably. “Not killing him was the worst mistake of my life.”

“Have there been any… upheavals against you?” Shepard asked tentatively.

“Ha! They tried and I beat them all!” His triumphant smirk disappeared quickly and he fell back against the seat. “I will lose eventually. It can’t go on forever. I can prove myself over and over again, there’s still a group that’s set on overthrowing me!”

“What does the shaman say?”

“He’s on my side.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Sakkem has set the people against him as well. Challenged his world views too, even though he preaches the same thing,” he scoffed. “The difference is that the shaman has authority and enhances violence for a reason. Sakkem only want revenge.”

“And you don’t?” Solana couldn’t help but ask, her mandibles fluttering provokingly.

Wrex laughed. “I had my revenge when I forced you turians to cure us from the genophage. And I continue to have my revenge as my people increase in numbers. We will spread, but not in Sakkem’s way. We won’t conquer your colonies, female. We will breed you out of them.”

“Stop!” Shepard shouted. She jumped between them as Solana holstered her weapon and Wrex stood up, ready to smash the turian into the ground. Shepard’s voice carried so much authority, the two aliens froze and settled back on their previous place.

“Not helping, Wrex,” the commander hissed through gritted teeth. Her green eyes flashed dangerously.

“She asked and I answered.”

“Yes, but people won’t like you if you threaten them to overrun them by numbers!” she shot back furiously.

“I don’t care if people like me. People only appreciate the krogan if they’re in trouble-”

“Which we are in right now,” Shepard interrupted him. She pointed a finger at him, when he opened his mouth to give his opinion. “No, you listen to me. This thing has been going on for too long! If you want your vision of revenge to come true, then you better do something against Sakkem or I swear I will not help you ever again if you are in trouble!”

“So…” She took a deep breath and released it just as slowly. She rubbed her eyes, then lowered her hand to glare at Wrex. “Who is Sakkem and what did he do?”

“Sakkem is a battlemaster. He’s a few years younger than me. Left Tuchanka like me to become a mercenary, returned about the same time as I did…”

“And he didn’t do anything then that caught your attention?”

“No,” he said. “He excelled during the Reaper war.”

“When did he start causing trouble?” she asked.

He sighed. “A couple of years ago. It happened slowly. I didn’t really notice he was up to something until… until it was too late.”

“But anyway…” He pushed himself off his throne, just as a krogan scout entered the room. The two exchanged nods and the latter waited outside. “I’ve got to go now. Duty calls. You know how it is.”

He grabbed her hand and shook her entire arm. “See you later, Shepard.”

Wrex left the room, leaving the alien team and a pair of guards behind, taking the rest of the warriors with him.

Vega turned to his commander.

“What the fuck was that?”

She shrugged, her jaw set tight. “Hell if I know… but I _will_ find out. He won’t get away with this.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will probably come back to correct the mistakes I missed, but I wanted to get this chapter up early, because June is finals' month :(


	7. Chapter 7

 

The staff on the Normandy ducked their heads as a fuming Commander Shepard stormed through the airlock. She barked the order to be left alone and under no circumstances – be it suicidal or friendship-related – was she to be called. Joker was the only one, who dared to play a tango song through the com in her room. No one knew what she said to him, but it was a fact that not two minutes had passed, before the pilot turned off the music.

“What happened?” Liara asked as she followed the turian to the crew quarters.

“Nothing,” Solana said. She stretched her neck as she took off her armor. Liara handed her a glass of water and got a grateful sigh in return.

Liara frowned. “Nothing? You know, it’s okay to tell me. I’m- I work for the Shadow Broker after all.”

Solana sat on her bunk to take off her shoes. She wiggled her talons and rubbed her ankle. “It’s not that,” she answered. “The thing is…” She sighed. “You see, the thing is nothing really happened.”

Liara’s frown deepened. “What do you mean?” Her eyes widened slightly as she considered the possibilities. “The krogan can’t be allied with-”

“It’s not that,” Solana said with a raised hand. She lowered it, her mandibles twitching. “But… Wrex didn’t say specifically that they weren’t involved.”

Liara released a sigh and dropped onto the bunk in front of Solana’s. She ran a hand over her face.

“The… the data I found… none of them led me to believe Wrex could have anything to do with it. I know _that’s_ where Sakkem showed up first. During the Reaper War. He and his krantt then moved on to Palaven to help the turian fleet, but only after did he come out as a -“

“Raving, revengeful lunatic?”

She chuckled. “Yeah…” She ran a hand over her face again and laid down. “How upset is she?”

Sol’s mandibles flared as she ground her teeth. “Well… considering that Wrex cut her off completely and ran away without giving her any useful information…”

Liara sighed. “I think… I should talk to her…”

“Why? She just needs to cool down. I’ll ask her later to spar.” Solana smiled. “That’s how _we_ deal with stress.”

A smile spread over the asari’s features. She turned her head to the turian. “Did you know that’s how Garrus and Shepard got together?”

“No!” Solana’s mandibles spread into a vicious grin. Her subharmonics trilled with glee. “So that’s how they got together. I totally knew Garrus didn’t woe her or something.”

Liara laughed. “That’s what he told you?”

“Well…” She cocked her head. “That’s what he implied.”

“And Shepard… did she say anything?”

“Nah. She laughed and slapped his arm. Do you think it’s weird how humans change color?”

Liara raised a brow. “You mean blushing?”

“Yeah, that thing.”

She laughed. “We do it too!”

Solana shook her head. “You do? I never saw you doing it!”

“Well, it’s not something you do on purpose, you know? It usually happens, when you’re embarrassed or want to die when a situation gets too uncomfortable.”

“Hmm…” The turian scratched her mandible. “We do something similar.”

“You do?”

“Our necks flush, but it’s hard to notice,” she said. “And our subvocals obviously. But I guess you guys can’t hear them.”

“Lucky you,” Liara smiled mildly.

Solana shuddered. Her hand reached up to rub over her throat. “It’s terrible. Or it can be. It sucks sometimes, because it’s so hard to lie and get away with it, you know? And everyone knows how you feel.”

“Isn’t there a way to… mute them?” Liara asked.

“I think they tried that sometime,” she answered. “But you see… our subvocals are kinda ingrained into our language. It’s pretty difficult to communicate without having dual-tones, you know?”

Liara sat up again. “I’d heard that turian languages are very difficult to learn, but I never knew why.”

Solana shrugged. “It is how it is. Wouldn’t be turian if it was easy.” She smiled. “Did you know that there are ten different words for death or killing? And we have about… five for orders.”

“Makes sense. Your society is mostly based on the military,” Liara said.

The door swift open behind them and Miranda appeared. She didn’t enter, but stayed on the threshold.

Solana’s brow plate arched. “Do you need something?”

Miranda’s cool gaze swept around and stopped on Liara. She raised her fine brows.

“You wanted to talk. If it’s about you-know-who, then we better do it now, before she cools down,” she said.

Liara gasped and stood up immediately. “Goddess, I almost forgot!” she said. She waved distractedly at a quite confused Solana, and followed Miranda out of the crew quarters.

“Where are we headed?” she asked.

“To the med-bay,” Miranda said airily as if the answer was an obvious one. “Doctor Chakwas is occupied with forcing Joker to swallow his pills.”

“Oh…”

They entered the med-bay in cold silence. Miranda went straight to her desk and sat down. She motioned Liara to take Chakwas’.

She folded her hands in front of her. “What did you want to talk about?”

“About Shepard,” Liara said.

Miranda rolled her eyes. “So you said. I remember,” she quipped. “But what about?”

Liara licked her lips. Her fingers stroke over the smooth surface of Miranda’s desk as she thought about what she should say next.

“I have noticed… a change in her.”

Miranda nodded.

“And I’m not sure it’s a good change,” she said slowly.

“What has changed?”

Liara shook her head. “It’s just… more than a feeling. The way she talks about herself. How she sometimes… zones off as if she was somewhere else. How she rejects any friendly, comforting touches…” She sighed. “At first I thought the change had something to do with Garrus’ disappearance – and it probably plays into that – but Shepard was always focused, sometimes even obsessed over a mission and she always got very little rest until that mission was over.”

“So, you think it’s something else,” Miranda said.

“Yes.” Liara leaned forward. “I’ve… been doing my research. You know I work for the Shadow Broker, so I know people and know the resources.” Miranda smiled thinly. “And I’ve discovered that she’s been seeing you at your office in the last couple of weeks.”

Liara stared at her with her large blue eyes and Miranda stared right back, unfazed.

“Yes, so?”

The asari huffed. “Did she see you?”

Miranda lifted a shoulder. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Can’t tell you. Medical confidentiality.”

Liara’s jaw twisted. “You know I’ll find out anyway.”

Miranda raised her eyebrows. “Then why are you here?”

“Because I would like to know without having to dig out information,” she gritted, hands clutching the table until her knuckles turned white. “And I couldn’t look Shepard in the eyes after that. I would rather do it the honest, direct and clean way.”

“Then why not ask her?”

Liara blinked. “Pardon me, what?”

Miranda’s lips curled into a small smile. “Then why not ask Shepard herself instead of me, a second source?”

“Um… because she would rip my head off and then plaster it back onto my neck and use me as a puppet?”

A rare laugh bubbled up Miranda’s throat. “That’s a pretty dark imagination you have there for an asari academic.”

“You know Shepard wouldn’t tell me the truth. She… she would surely change the subject or ignore me.” Liara shook her head. “Just tell me, Miranda.”

The two women looked at each other in silence for a moment. Then finally, Miranda released a short breath and pushed herself off her seat. She pressed on a button and the lights behind the board lit up, showing two blurry images.

Liara’s brows furrowed. She stood up and moved cautiously closer to the board. She halted in front of the images and studied them closer, intent on decrypting them. When she did, her eyes widened even more and she backed away, whirling around to look at the human.

“Is that a…” Her voice broke and she cleared her throat. Gaping, she turned around to look at the images again. She rubbed her forehead, then reached out to trace the bean-shaped fetus in midst of the blur.

“Oh my – I can’t…” She turned to Miranda again. “That’s a… uh…”

Miranda sat back down and crossed her arms. Her foot tapped on the floor.

“Just say it, Liara.”

“Holy… Goddess…” A breathless laugh escaped her and she covered her mouth with her hand. “I can’t believe it… Although…” She shrugged. “If someone could make it happen, then Shepard.”

“You still haven’t looked at the other ultrasound picture,” Miranda pointed out.

“Why? It’s the same one just-” She stopped abruptly. Her eyes squinted, searched for the tiny bean, but there was none. She felt as if a black hole opened up in her stomach and dragged her insides into the void. She swallowed.

“Oh,” was the only thing she managed to say.

“Oh,” Miranda said quietly, softly.

 But uh… A human-turian pregnancy… that’s uh… rare.”

“It’s impossible”, Miranda corrected.

Liara turned away from the ultrasounds. She opened her mouth, but her voice had lost function.

Miranda smiled sadly. “It happens,” she said with a light shrug. “Even to the best of people.”

She watched the doctor scribble something in her notebook, her lips mouthing the words she wrote down.

“Did it-” Liara cleared her throat, swaying where she stood. “This happened a month ago, right?”

“Yes…”

Liara exhaled slowly and bit her lip. She turned back to the board.

“She was so happy,” she whispered. “She glowed, but didn’t say nothing. And then from one day to the other her entire demeanor changed. She was quieter, sadder…” She closed her eyes and collected herself. She took a deep breath, then turned back to the human, who was scribbling on her notepad.

“You made it possible”, she stated.

Miranda put down her pencil, half-turning in her chair to face the asari properly.

“I made it possible, because I had all the resources in the galaxy,” she explained firmly. “In the Collector attack, Shepard’s uterus was destroyed – _everything_ about her was destroyed. So it was ‘easy’ to replace it or rather modify it. There weren’t any risks involved, not the same way they’d exist if I tried the same with my other patients. Shepard was dead. I couldn’t make it worse than it already was.”

Liara uncrossed her arms. “Did that help with the job? Knowing that you couldn’t make it worse no matter what you did?”

“I didn’t have the time to think about it,” replied the woman. “I had a job to get done, so I did everything to bring Shepard back to life.” She smiled proudly. But when she looked at Liara again, her look was apprehensive. “I can see you don’t… approve of the methods involved in Shepard’s resurrection.”

Liara shifted uncomfortably under the penetrating and inquisitive stare in Miranda’s eyes.

“I know you did everything possible to bring her back. And I’m happy you did, but-”

“Good. Because need I remind you that it was you who sold Shepard’s body to Cerberus? You’re the one, who made Project Lazarus possible in the first place, Liara.” And with those words, Miranda turned swiftly back to her work, dismissing the asari as she did so.

Liara pursed her lips. Her blood warmed her cheeks uncomfortably so, but she got the message and left.

Once she had locked herself in her quarters, Liara sank down on her bed. The screens of the information controls and datapads were glaring at the ceiling and walls. They beeped each time a new entry was updated. At first it had been annoying, but the Shadow Broker had gotten used to it by now. With a sigh she let herself fall fully on her bed and stretched. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and wondered how the hell she was going to confront Shepard with the newly gained information.

Her friend was suffering in silence. Liara didn’t care if Shepard threw her out of the airlock, as long as she knew that at least someone in the Normandy was there for her.

*

During the first half hour after their return to her ship Shepard had paced from one point to the other, fuming and mumbling wordless curses at Wrex. That quickly became boring, so she decided to take a cold shower. This helped only in the sense that it left her drained and soaking.

She was now lying on her back on her comfy bed, throwing a ball against the wall and catching it again. She counted every bounce, feeling how this game kept her mind numb and quiet. She felt empty. She felt calm. For once, the urge to spar failed her.

Then the com in her cabin sizzled suspiciously. With a roll of her eyes Shepard prepared herself for the interruption.

_“Shut up! I’m not going to tell her!”_

_“Come on, you’re her oldest friend here on board,”_ hissed a soldier, whose voice she could identify. _“Besides, we can’t let him waiting.”_

_“Yeah, but her orders are law you know? I can’t just-”_

Jane sat up with a huff. She brushed the damp strands from her face and moved to the edge of her bed.

“I’m listening, Joker.”

There was dumb silence for a brief minute, before Joker got over the surprise.

 _“Oh, hey Commander!”_ he said cheerfully. _“Feeling better after the nap?”_

“Didn’t get to it,” she replied dryly.

The pilot chuckled. _“So, uh… Shepard, you got a visitor.”_

“I gathered as much,” she said. “Tell him I’m busy.”

_“Well, you see… he – uh – is waiting right outside. Outright demanded to see you.”_

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, and who is he?”

_“Grunt.”_

That caught her attention. She straightened. “And it’s really urgent?”

 _“To be honest, I don’t think he’d be here at this hour if it wasn’t,”_ Joker said.

Jane sighed and nodded. “Alright. Let him in.”

 _“I’ll tell him to knock,”_ he said.

She smiled tiredly. “Thanks, Joker.”

With Grunt’s announced visit, Shepard had a reason to get up and get changed. She didn’t bother to brush her hair, though, and just tied it into a ponytail instead. She filled her glass with fresh water, dumping it down her throat in one go, then sat down on her sofa. There she waited, staring blindly at the wall.

She didn’t have to wait long.

There was a rough knock on her door. It was Grunt, and he barged in as if the cabin belonged to him. Although Shepard was undoubtedly frustrated, she found herself smiling at the pacing sight of her young friend; though the circumstances they met, were not ideal.

She got to her feet and approached him, hand reaching out to shake his.

“He lost against Sakkem,” Grunt said gruffly, cutting off the unavoidable small-talk, face unequivocally pursing into a scowl.

Shepard froze. “What?”

“He and Sakkem fought and Wrex lost,” he repeated, slower this time, but not less angry.

Shepard opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to gain control over her whirling mind. Of all things… this she had not thought possible.

“I – uh- what?” she hissed, drawing closer to him. She was glaring, furious, but at whom she couldn’t really tell. Now she understood why Grunt had been so insistent on talking. “How do you know about this?”

He lifted a shoulder. As if it didn’t matter.

“I followed Wrex into the throne room. Wanted to talk to him about my banner. I knew he was going to be alone, since everyone else was getting shitfaced drunk…” He shrugged again. “Sakkem must’ve had the same idea, because just when I was about to talk to Wrex, that varren scum appeared out of nowhere and started a fight.”

Jane struggled in keeping her face emotionless. “What happened then?”

“Eh, they fought. It was probably the dirtiest fight I’ve ever seen. And I’ve fought Ravagers. They were disgusting. Sakkem must’ve been afraid of losing to Wrex or else he wouldn’t have ambushed him without his krantt.”

She waved impatiently. “Yeah, but if Sakkem won, how is Wrex still alive? How come nobody else knows about this?”

“Because I punched him in his ugly face, before he could kill Wrex. But still… people know something’s off. Wrex is… more paranoid than usual.” Something in his face twisted, a grimace maybe, but was it of regret? Or disappointment? “If he doesn’t show his worth as battlemaster soon…” He shook his head. “It’s shameful… I shouldn’t have intervened.”

Shepard punched him reflexively, hissed as her fist collided against thick armor. ”Don’t say that!” she snarled. “Would you prefer Sakkem was your leader?”

He was still for a moment. “No,” he said quietly, but firmly. “I did the right thing, but…” He shook his head. “I should’ve killed him. Would’ve been the right thing to do.”

“Probably. But what’s done, is done,” Shepard countered and paused. “Is that why Wrex doesn’t go after him? Why he allowed Sakkem to move to Rubrum? Because he’s afraid of losing again?”

“I doubt Wrex is afraid of dying. He’s more afraid of what will happen to our people if he dies.”

To that Jane had no reply. She patted his shoulder, but felt awkward doing it, especially because she knew he didn’t want comfort; he wanted a solution.

“He’s under a lot of pressure, Wrex,” she tried after a short silence. “He can’t afford a mistake if your future depends on his survival. There’s a war brewing, I’m sure it can still be prevented, but if Sakkem becomes your leader, then I really don’t see the other races looking away and siding with you. There won’t be anything I could do then, Grunt.”

The young krogan grunted. “Well Shepard, if Wrex wants to ensure our future, then he has to act soon, or else he’ll have to worry more about the krogan on his side than Sakkem’s followers.” He shook his head. “Who knows? Maybe they are planning his death right now…”

Shepard scowled. He chuckled and turned away.

“I’m just telling it how it is. You don’t have to like it.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I understand. I understand and-” she sighed and sank down on her couch.

“I need to think about how I’ll approach Wrex about this…”

He scoffed. “Good luck.”

She shot him a glare. “Shit, Grunt!” she snarled, standing up again. “Aren’t you aware of the mess we’re currently in?”

“Sure.”

“Shut up. Oh God, where do I start?” She sat down again. “I think I’ll handle this the old fashioned way. Head right in, force Wrex to tell me everything and kick ass while doing so.”

Grunt shrugged, turning to leave. “That might come sooner than you’d expect.”

*

Unfortunately, Grunt was right. Fortunately, Shepard always entered a potential battle zone prepared.

After a short night full of tossing from side to side, sleep evading her, Shepard called her team together to discuss the ‘non-plan’. James and Solana would be joining her on the ground team again.

Cortez drove them to Tuchanka, dropped them off on the shuttle bay. Shepard and her team headed directly over to the government building. Wrex had to be expecting them, because the aliens were allowed entrance without much trouble. This time Wrex was waiting for them in the throne room.

“Wrex!” Jane called out.

“Shepard!” drummed Wrex with a nod. “Good to see you.”

“Cut the crap, Wrex,” she said. “We need to talk.”

Wrex stared at her grimly, but else gave no sign of being angry. “Seems we do.”

Her arms folded in front of her chest. “I want an explanation for your behavior yesterday. Cutting me off like that… that was just rude and I hate it.”

He nodded. “I get it. It was wrong. But let me show you.”

He pushed her forward, motioning her to follow him. They left the building and hopped into a heavily guarded shuttle. Shepard looked at him sideways, eyebrow raised, but he shrugged it off and gave the order to leave. The drive didn’t take long, and they stepped out on a wide space. There was a large table in the center, big enough to be a stage or a podium. The ground was littered with empty thermal clips, chunks of debris and splintered pieces of stone. Traces of a fight was marred into the place. Shepard had seen thousands of places just like this before. Something about the air, the feel of the ground underneath, the sight of gun fire, explosions and biotics. It was always and everywhere the same.

Wrex waved a hand. “There. Is that a good enough excuse for you?”

She brushed a hand over the freshly marred walls. “Yeah… yeah, it is…” She gasped a breath, couldn’t stop the humorless smile on her face. “So that’s what’s been keeping you busy? Your own people?”

Thank God Wrex had a sense of humor. He grinned crookedly. “Yeah. These idiots have been bothering me ever since Sakkem left.”

“That long, huh?”

“Hmpf, yeah. I guess I deserve it.”

She furrowed her brows at his self-deprecating tone. She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, but he beat her to it.

“Listen, Shep. I’m sorry about Garrus. And I know why you’re here -”

Jane’s jaw tightened. Her lips pursed. “Is that the polite way to tell me that you won’t help?”

“I can’t help you. At least not until I got the situation here under control,” he said.

“I gotta say, you’re doing a great job,” she drawled, looking pointedly at the scorch marks on the podium.

“It looks worse than it actually is,” he said. “But I’m not gonna lie, Shep. It’s not looking good.”

“I am shocked,” she said cuttingly.

Wrex scowled. “What’s gotten into you? You’re usually a lot less snappy.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m tired of fixing the mess politicians make!”

“I’m no politician,” he growled, stepping dangerously forward. “I _am_ clan Urdnot.”

The spectre shook her head, a cold smirk on her lips. “So, it’s that what you’ve been telling yourself all this time instead of doing your job?” she asked rhetorically, with a mockingly mild melody in her voice. “How you’re the savior of the krogan? How you’ll restore-”

He snorted, pushing her away. “Shut up. That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I know. But I’m fucking tired of putting the pieces together,” she said. “I want the truth, and I want to hear it from you and only you, you hear me? I am not leaving until I know everything there is to know.”

Wrex barked a laugh. He didn’t say anything, so Shepard turned to her ground team.

“People, this is going to take a while, so I suggest you find yourself a spot and make yourself comfortable.”

Solana unhooked her rifle and sat down, placing her weapon between her knees. James followed, then Shepard.

“You brought the cookies, Vega?”

“Course I did, Lola,” he said almost affronted at being asked. He threw her a small plastic bag. “Here. Miranda told me to give it to you.”

Shepard fished a cookie, frowning suspiciously when she noticed they were her favorite ones.

“Oh. Did she tell you why?”

He shrugged, munching contently at his granola bar. He broke a chunk off the chocolate bar. “Nah. I didn’t ask. Why?”

It was Jane’s turn to shrug. “Just asking.”

James hit Solana with his elbow. He nodded at the thing she was eating. “Is it any good?”

“Yeah, not my favorite, but…”

“Remind me to buy dextro food once we dock again,” Shepard said.

Her mandibles twitched into a smirk. “Oh, I will.”

Shepard chuckled, then turned to Wrex with a sigh. “Why did you bring us here if not to talk privately?”

“There’s no such thing as privacy, Shepard.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to tune out James and Solana’s friendly banter. “Yeah, well, I don’t care. I want to hear what’s wrong.”

“Everything’s wrong, Shepard,” he said. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

“Okay, then let’s start with how the hell you got into this mess,” she suggested. “What did Sakkem do to get kicked out?”

“Short answer: he was being a dick. Long answer: he started to undermine my authority. Talked about killing turians for revenge and stuff.” He shook his head. “The worst thing was, that guy was in my council for a while. He did have good points. Not about the turians, but in general. About intergalactic politics, and how the Council gets too involved in our own worlds, very often only with their own interests in mind…

“But then he started getting pushy, loud and annoying. As I said, he started suggesting reclaiming the colonies from once upon a time. He won a lot of people over with that idea,” Wrex said. “I honestly don’t get the point. It’s better to start from scratch, and the Council did give us some colonies.”

“Like the settlements on Rubrum,” Shepard muttered.

He waved her comment away. “That happened later,” he replied. “The thing is, it was getting harder and harder to shut him up, especially because he gained so much popularity, you know? I still can’t tell when exactly he shifted from ‘reclaiming our colonies’ to ‘let’s kill all turians’.”

“Did you kick him out then?”

“Shepard, if I kicked out every krogan, who said something about killing turians, I would have to quit. It’s normal. What’s not normal is – well, what Sakkem wanted. He’s mad. Obsessed with the restauration of our race. And he has a point there, too. We lost so many of our people, but we always reproduced faster than anybody. I’m telling you in a hundred years we’ll have outbred the asari.”

Shepard smiled mildly. “Don’t tell them that.”

“The problem is that he’s using our traditions, our history to further his own agenda. And because most people aren’t as smart as I am, many fell for him.

Wrex sat down. “I guess it’s my fault in a way. I got too… complacent. Comfortable.” He shrugged and looked at Shepard fully in the eyes. “You see, Sakkem has this way of speaking. It’s… not amazing or anything, but there’s this sense of calmness in him, as if he was at peace with the monster he is, you know?”

Shepard let her eyes roam over the place around them. “Did they turn on you when you kicked him out?”

“Not immediately,” he said. “It happened… very quickly. He challenged me, I kicked him out, and then he was simply gone. I had no idea what had happened to him until I heard about Rubrum.” He chuckled. “I’ve to say, the Council’s decision surprised even me!”

She chuckled as well, albeit less enthusiastically. “You and the entire turian population.”

“Anyway, his followers attacked me a week later. I won, of course, but it left a bad taste. Now everything I seem to do is fight. Hmpf. I’d hope we’d be over that by now.”

James interrupted their conversation.

“Speaking of fighting, there’s krogan headed our way,” he warned, wrapping the chocolate and stuffing it back in his pockets.

Wrex stood up, called his men to him. Shepard sighed and got to her feet as well.

“Get ready for the worst,” she told Solana and Vega.

Sol forced a chuckle. “Well, with that attitude…”

The krogan leading the approaching group halted a few feet away from them.

“Wrex,” he nodded.

“Tarkas,” Wrex growled. “What do you want?”

Tarkas swept his gaze over the people present, stopping to inspect the aliens with undisguised disapproval.

“I see you called for help,” he said.

“I didn’t call for help, you varren brain. This is Shepard, a friend.”

“What’s the difference?”

Wrex snorted, “The difference is that a friend kills for free.”

Shepard sighed loudly, taking her gun out of the holster in the process.

Tarkas nodded at her. “The alien’s reminding us of our manners. A true krogan never chats uselessly.”

He aimed at an explosive tank and shot. Shepard had the chance to sigh again, before it exploded, throwing everybody in its radius off their feet.

It was incredible how quickly the situation escalated.

"Take cover!" she ordered, holstering her gun and aiming at the head of a wrathful krogan.

"Damn, these _pendejos_ regenerate fast!" James shouted, before ducking again.

Shepard ducked behind an upturned bench and waited for her powers to recharge. "Sol? Do you see the guy on the left?"

The turian lowered her head as she scouted the area. Her eyes narrowed. "Which one?"

"There's more now?" Shepard released a breathless laugh and shook her head. "Concentrate on those two then," she commanded. She exhaled deeply and aimed at a krogan whose shields had weakened considerably. His head and body ripped to shreds at the vicious blast she hit him with her power.

"James, you make sure Wrex doesn't die!"

She heard his sigh from the distance and managed to smile.

"You're the boss, Lola," he said. James shot the last clip empty, changed his weapon to a near-range one, and started making his way to Wrex.

“But next time, let’s go somewhere unpopulated, alright?”

She grinned. “No promises.”

Luckily for Wrex, there were just as many krogan fighting for him as there were trying to kill him. Wrex' laughter roared through the battle noise. It annoyed Shepard immensely.

A massive, hot blast threw her and several others back. She twisted her arm as she landed and cried out.

"Shepard!" Solana made a move to go back to her.

"No!" the commander yelled through her pain, her anger rising with every trigger that was pulled. "Focus on doing your job!"

Solana growled. She hit a nearing krogan with overload, her next bullets successfully taking him down.

Jane rolled into cover behind an enormous junk of a destroyed statue.

Some moron must have set off another explosion. The blast had hit everyone before Shepard and herself. She was hurt and several others were dead. She checked her weapons, giving a pleased nod when she found them fully loaded.

"I've had enough," she muttered to herself.

She left her cover and shot several times until she reached her next cover. A krogan got too close. Broke through her shields with a brute kick, but with a biotic throw she got him off her. Three shots from her lovely assault rifle and he dropped and never stirred again. Jane wiped the blood from her cheek and spat on the floor. She looked around. She didn't like what she saw.

Wrex was surrounded and Vega was busy with fighting off two krogan. She hesitated. Wrex was the priority. James could handle the other two.

With an angry shout, Shepard threw a krogan off of her. He jumped back to his feet. Jane charged with another cry, hit him twice, before the blade on her weapon sliced through his neck. Her shields trembled as she was hit by several gun shots. The force behind them was heavy and stung, but not enough to hurt. Her heart skipped a beat and with a grunt, she took cover again.

There was a brief moment where she took time to take in the situation. They were, for lack of better word, screwed. But not hopelessly so. James was free again and covered Wrex' six, but the rebelling krogan were concentrating all their force on taking down the head of clan Urdnot. Looking further to her left, she noticed that Sol had drifted too far.

"Sol! Get them off my back!" she shouted, waited for the turian to get in position, and then ran.

Her shields shook with the hits from her enemies, but Sol kept most away from her. One after another fell to her vicious aim and tech blasts. Sooner than she expected, Shepard had reached Wrex and James and joined them in the fight.

"Ha! Nice to see you join the party, Shepard!" her krogan friend roared, but his cheerfulness was uncharacteristically forced. He was having trouble fighting them off; blood dripped from his muzzle, his left eye was swollen and bloodshot. His shields were still strong, but halfway down and his enemies were relentless.

"Shut up and focus!" she gritted with narrowed eyes. "Wrex! We need to talk!"

"I'm a bit busy here, Shepard!" he barked and smashed a charging soldier to the ground.

"I don't -"

"Commander!" James cried out as a krogan hit her square in the stomach. Shepard gasped in surprise and pain. She fell to the ground, seemingly dazed, struggling to get back on her feet.

"Take this, pendejos!" James blasted two krogan with a hit of carnage. He reached his commander and kneeled beside her.

"Lola, you okay?"

She groaned. "Fuck..." She bit her lower lip to stifle a whimper as James helped her up. “I- I’m fine. I’m fine.”

She had to sit down to regain her senses. She curled and took deep, even breaths. Her stomach churned dangerously. Her heart constricted with every frantic beat. Shepard cursed everything and everyone, the krogan and the turians, who started the whole mess, the galactic Council for making a decision, Sakkem, and the rest of the sentient population. She cursed herself for acting this way. She knew better, dammit!

“Shepard!” Solana cried out worriedly.

Her voice jerked her up from her self-pity. With a shake of her head, Shepard got back on her feet and rejoined the fight.

Shepard had reached a point in her life, where even fighting was done automatically. She didn’t know where this level-headedness came from, how she had managed to achieve it, but it left her feeling empty and drained.

The fight ended the only way it could’ve: with the death of the krogan rebels. The audience was small, but after Wrex had killed the last one, a whisper of approval seemed to blow through them. Regardless of the end result, Wrex’ mood had improved dramatically; so much that he was the one to approach Shepard. As krogan are wont to do he left out the banter and small talk expected.

“This is what I’ve been doing for the last couple of months,” he said.

At that point, Shepard was so tired that she opted for the direct approach.

“I heard about what happened with Sakkem,” she said after making sure no one was close enough to hear.

A scowl brushed over his stiff and alien features. “Grunt told you.”

“I wish you had told me,” Shepard said. “I wish I hadn’t found out from a second source.”

Wrex grunted and shrugged.

A thin line appeared between her brows. “You’re not angry at Grunt for telling me, are you?” she asked, trying to coax him into a two-sided conversation.

“I was at first. But now I’m angrier at myself…” he admitted. “It- it’s harder to let go of the shame than one’s anger, you know?” He laughed bitterly and shook his head. “Every fight could’ve been my last, Shepard, but it wasn’t. I won every fucking time, because I was – _am_ the better warrior. Bakara was right… it was my arrogance that… and I never thought it would get this far.”

“One never does,” Shepard added.

“No, but we always bash on others when they don’t notice what’s right in front of them. And it really was right before my eyes, Shep. And I… I just didn’t see it. Refused to recognize the danger of Sakkem’s madness.”

“Was the fight really that bad?”

 “It wasn’t as horrible as fighting against the Reapers. Perhaps the fight against my father, but… nah. He got what he deserved, the traitor.” Wrex sighed. “Sakkem and his people never stopped challenging me, so I knew it was only a matter of time until they rebelled. Which was a problem because they’d managed to get a lot of people on their side. They were more than I expected. I’m a great fighter, but even _I_ can’t defeat an army on my own.”

“You have a krantt, though,” she pointed out. “The majority is still on your side, Wrex.”

He chuckled. “Shepard, you and I both know the majority consists of opportunists and people, who just want to be left alone. The minorities chose a side and the rest follows. In our case, krogan only follow the greater warrior. The only reason I’m not dead yet is because the only ones, who know about this shame, are either dead or share it.”

“Still, if you’d asked for support from the Council or even from me-”

He interrupted her with a shake of head. “Asking for outside support only shows weakness. You can’t rely on outside forced if everything’s screwed up in the inside. But anyway… Sakkem ambushed me during the feast, like the coward he is. He had two supporters with him. I killed them, he killed one of mine. And he would’ve killed me had Grunt not stepped in,” he said with a final sigh.

“Now you know it from me.” He gave a brusque nod and turned away.

Shepard brushed a stray hair from her face.

“Listen, Wrex… I’m not going to say it isn’t your fault, but you’ve got to move on. There’s no time for wallowing in self-guilt.” She bumped his shoulder. “You couldn’t have seen Sakkem coming. He was already in, before you knew. Now it’s a matter of getting rid of him, before he does any lasting damage. I need you on my side. I need you to join the turians on the fight against Sakkem and his followers. Can you do that?”

“I can. But I have to fix the situation on Tuchanka first,” he said. “I have arranged a meeting in the Hollows in a few weeks with Sakkem’s followers here. It’s sacred ground – and fighting is forbidden. I expect they won’t care and attack. When they do, we will fight like in the old days. And whoever wins…”

“This is a terrible idea,” Shepard snapped. “If you lose then-”

“Then I wasn’t worthy of my place anyway,” he interrupted her. “If I want to lead my people into a battle against our own, then I need to win back the respect I somehow lost.” He grumbled. “You wouldn’t get it. You humans are very different.”

“Maybe, but…”

“You saw what happened in Rubrum after the Council got involved,” Wrex pointed out.

She stopped short. After pondering for a short moment, she gave the krogan a nod. “I do… and you’re right. I think the best thing is if you solve the problem among yourselves.”

Wrex gave her a nod. He looked almost grateful. “I give you my word Shepard, as soon as I got the situation back under control I’ll lead my people to Prima.”

“One condition, though,” She wiggled a finger at him. “You reply to Victus’ messages, alright?”

His smiled. “Alright. I’ll talk to that spike-face.”

Jane laughed. “Good, good. I’ll be checking tomorrow if you called him.”

“You’re worse than a female with a child.”

“Well, someone has to keep you in line, right?”

He grumbled a laugh. “Bakara’s been doing a pretty good job so far.”

Shepard smiled warmly. “How is she?”

“Whoever knows with females? Ask her yourself. She’s headed over here… There.”

Shepard turned around, a smile tugging at her lips, wrinkling the scars on the side of her face, as she caught sight of the krogan shaman.

Bakara walked with her back straight, two other females on her side. The warriors all stepped out of the way as they approached Wrex and Shepard. The latter looked up to Wrex, when he bumped into her shoulder.

“Listen, Shepard,” he started. “I’m sorry for the mess, but it is what it is. If I were you I’d go to Alpria, the closest planet to Rubrum. There’s a salarian group on a planet near Rubrum. Our spies reported that they might have an agreement with Sakkem. Probably dealing with weapons and stuff.”

Jane nodded gratefully. “Send it to my omni-tool. I’ll check it out.”

The two warriors shook hand then, wording their goodbyes, before Shepard turned to Bakara. The krogan urged her to follow as she moved to the edge of the battle worn ground. From there they had a good view over the settlements. A group of children were playing before them.

Bakara watched them with a proud arch of her back. Shepard couldn’t blame her; the krogan shaman had done a magnificent job at reuniting the clans. She and Wrex balanced each other well, and were good parents to their children.

Shepard’s smile was a wistful, deeply sad one as she followed the children’s’ brutal game. They were krogan, but still little and innocent. She would’ve been three months along. Three months and a week.

The krogan female turned to her. She gave her an inquisitive, thorough look, studying her intently. Whatever she saw in Shepard, she understood. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she hummed. Shepard averted her eyes and focused instead on the tall, carapace-like buildings around them. Wrex had said these buildings were “Reaper-proved” and, though she had laughed at first, she had to admit that her friend had a point.

It was time to break the silence and distract the female from forming any conclusions on Shepard.

“It’s good to see you well, Bakara,” she said quietly.

“Likewise, Commander,” the krogan said. “I was expecting you to come by sooner or later.”

“Wrex and Grunt have told me how things have been,” she started, forcefully being conversationally. “But I would like to hear your opinion on… this whole mess.”

“It’s not been easy, Commander,” Bakara sighed. “As it always is with things that really matter. We like to blame the genophage, other races for our current situation – and they have certainly done their part. But old habits, Shepard, die hard, and so does the krogan mentality when it comes to certain things.” She huffed in open disgust. “Males kill without bothering to ask questions first. Some want to see the results quickly, and are too stupid to realize that it is easier to destroy, than to rebuild. And of course, us females are only seen as prices to be won.”

“I understand,” Shepard said quietly, her thoughts on how quickly London, a city which took centuries to become what it was, had been destroyed. Five years later and the reconstruction was not even half-done yet.

Bakara gave her another seeking glance, but this time the commander was able to hold it.

“You are disappointed with Wrex,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Shepard crossed her arms and leaned on the ledge. She said nothing.

“I understand,” said Bakara. “I am disappointed too.”

Jane chuckled humorlessly.

 “Well, you’re hiding it pretty well,” Shepard retorted.

“I have more experience in hiding my disappointment when it comes to males and leaders in general,” the krogan replied. “And females as well. We have stood aside, quiet, letting our males act without trying to stop them.”

Shepard puffed. “What are you trying to say?”

“Sakkem is a dangerous man, Shepard,” Bakara warned, her amber eyes staring at her with the most serious, alarmed expression she had ever seen. “By now you must have heard everyone you encountered, say the same thing, but it is, without a doubt, true. I have heard him speak. I have seen him fight. And unlike Wrex, who can see beyond the anger and wounds the centuries have given us, Sakkem’s message is much more appealing. Easier. The krogan are angry. Blinded by hate. It’s nothing new, of course. And unfortunately, progress has been slow.”

“Is there a point to this conversation?” Shepard asked with a slight impatient tune to her voice.

Bakara turned to her. “Don’t give up on us yet. You fighting with Wrex against the rebels was a step forward in the right direction. With a bit more time things will start changing in a positive reaction. I promise.”

Her lips thinned and she released a deep sigh. Shepard wanted nothing but to agree with her, but the events of five hours ago had put a dent in her optimism. If she had any such thing as an optimistic perspective.

“Bakara, there’s not much I can do in face of what’s been going on in Tuchanka recently,” she admitted. “I’m not sure how much you get from the outside, but people are very scared of you right now. For now, the Council is staying out of this whole mess, but the Hierarchy is not, and if the rumors are true, then there’s a salarian group allied to Sakkem.” She paused to take a deep breath, before continuing, “Is that true?”

“It is.”

Shepard turned her face way and released a growl through gritted teeth.

“The salarians have proved to be a resourceful help in rebuilding our culture,” Bakara further explained, her voice betraying no emotion. “But unfortunately, Sakkem’s enchantment transcends races. Some salarians have joined him.”

The human ran a hand through her messy hair, pulling out a burnt leaf from her entangled strands.

“That’s what I don’t get,” she said. “The salarians are just as responsible for the genophage as the turians. Why would Sakkem let them join?”

“Usefulness,” the krogan answered. “The salarians have extensive knowledge and we are very behind in this area. Besides, while the salarians were just as involved with our downfall, they were also the ones who came with a cure. The turians didn’t.”

“But it was a turian, who-”

“Commander, you are aware that the conflict between us and the turians had its beginning before the genophage, right? I am not sure we would have accepted a cure if the turians had been the one to make it.”

“Great,” Shepard scowled and turned away.

“Shepard... you must go to Rubrum and fight,” Bakara insisted, lowering her voice. “Wrex cannot leave Tuchanka as long as the krogan here continue to doubt him. You have to forge the path for Wrex to kill Sakkem. I cannot begin to tell you how _important_ it is that Wrex be the one to kill him. This is a fight between two battlemasters, two different ideas. I don’t know who’ll win, but whatever happens, this is a fight that has to end with them. One of them must die.”

A shudder ran down Shepard’s spine. Something about how Bakara voiced her thoughts, the urgency in her request and the fear of the uncertain future, transmitted down to her. It was a responsibility she didn’t want; a promise she couldn’t give. And suddenly, as hurtful as the disappointment was, it faded to be replaced by pity. She felt sorry for this woman before her, she felt sorry for Grunt, for Wrex, who still fought stubbornly for a better future. Anyone else would have left, wouldn’t have even bothered to save what still had a possible future. Wrex had to stay and lead the krogan. Wrex, and only him. Anyone else might get it wrong.

A bitter laugh bubbled up in her chest, but she suppressed it. What was the point of anything, if things went wrong sooner or later no matter how hard one tried?

The two walked in silence as the female krogan lead the human back to her shuttle, where her ground team was waiting for her. Solana cocked her head inquisitively, and got a reassuring nod in return. The turian stepped into the shuttle.

Bakara stopped before the open door.  

“I apologize again, in the name of my people and Wrex, for the inconveniences. It really is not something we saw coming.”

Jane sighed. “I understand…”

Bakara smiled. “But it doesn’t make it any easier, does it?”

The human returned the smile. “Yeah…”

The two women shook hands.

“Farewell, Commander,” Bakara said. “I wish you success on your mission.”

“Goodbye, Bakara.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'll try to keep the chapters shorter, but they keep getting out of hand!
> 
> Also, I had barely time to edit this one. I'll do that later, but I wanted to get this posted and focus on the next chapters.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was initially at the beginning of chapter 7.

_On the borders of Salva_

_Approx. 23:45 p.m._

_40 days before loss of connection_

*

Syrus clicked his mandibles in disdain. “So that’s where we’ll meet our krogan spy?”

From their shuttle, they could see the deserted village, which lay between the krogan settlement and their city. It posed a sad view; a gloomy reminder of another bitter defeat.

“I hope so,” he said.

“You don’t sound very optimistic,” the female turian behind them quipped.

Garrus huffed. “It’s been two days since we last talked. A lot can happen during that time.”

“At least your concussion has healed,” Calah pointed out. “I was expecting to get an angry call from your wife…”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “She wasn’t angry, just irritated,” he said, reaching for the bag filled with red leaves.

“Isn’t that like the same thing?” Tavis interjected. He was chewing on a red leaf, his tongue rolling it inside his mouth, humming as he squeezed and sucked the taste out.

“Nah. Shepard knows I’ve taken worse hits,” Garrus said. His mandibles spread into a wide smirk. “I caught a rocket with my face after all.”

He hummed in pleasure, closing his eyes as he tasted the leaf. “Spirits, I never thought I’d ever eat vegetation, but here I am…”

The young turian grinned broadly, but Calah only shook her head.

“This must come up in every dinner conversation,” she said. “You’re like those old people, who always tell the same story.”

“Well, my other stories are _classified,”_ he said.

Tavis leaned closer. “Does that mean there are things about Saren that are secret?”

He shrugged. “Don’t think so,” he replied. “Unless you’re talking about how blind the Council was…”

“Yeah, but that’s not new,” Tavis said and spat out the leaf. “Give me another one, Calah.”

She huffed and slapped his greedy hand away. “You already had three! And we still got a long night ahead of us!”

“How many did you eat anyway?” Syrus asked suddenly. He twisted in his seat to glare at them. “Leave some for me, alright?”

“We can argue about that later,” Garrus said in a hushed whisper. He was gazing out of the window with raptor like eyes. “We’re here. Syrus, stop. Stop! We don’t want to get too close.”

They stopped the shuttle a generous distance from the meeting point and jumped out. They waited a few moments, where no one dared to breathe in fear of catching the attention of their enemies.

But they were alone. There was no singing birds or humming insects, nor the purr and growl from night active mammals. The broken village was, as everyone had said, completely deserted.

Even though the relief to be alone allowed Garrus’ team to breathe and move more freely, they still were too nervous to talk or hope. They entered the village, passing by empty houses that showed signs of a battle. The broken in windows and doors glared after them; the dark abyss in them seemed to suck Garrus’ team in like a black hole. The turians shivered despite the warmth protection of their armors.

Finally, they arrived at the spot and settled down. In the time that followed, they checked their armor, medigel and shields, and looked if their weapons were really in their best shape. They froze and tensed with every change of shadows and every foreign sound, but slowly, as the minutes passed and became an hour, they fell into a low chatter, while still keeping their eyes on their surroundings.

“Well…” Syrus sighed as he gazed at the buildings around them. “At least it’s no Reaper base.”

Garrus chuckled and took another leaf he had secretly stashed in his armor.

“I wish it was already tomorrow,” Tavis said, looking nervously from one point to the other. “The wait is driving me crazy!”

He nodded slowly. “He’s late.”

“Maybe he got delayed. Maybe he’s dead.”

Syrus chuckled. “You’re so cheerful, Calah,” he said. “I bet it’s the first.”

“I wish we knew what they’re up to. The krogan I mean,” continued Tavis.

“It’s the salarians’ fault we can’t,” Calah hissed. “Somehow they managed to hack into our satellites, so everything we get from them, whether it’s messages from the outsides or images, we cannot trust them. And we have to be _very_ careful what messages we send away. We can’t know who reads them.”

Tavis sat up and leaned closer to her. “How come the salarians are working with the krogan?” he asked. “Aren’t they just as responsible for the genophage like us?”

Garrus sighed. “The conflict reaches deeper, Tavis. I guess there weren’t many krogan on Aephus, but every turian outside your homeplanet knows we’ve hated each other long before the genophage, but I guess that sealed it.” He sighed again. “It’s a shame really. I have a friend who’s a krogan.”

“And you forget that the salarians… they also developed the cure,” Syrus pointed out. “It’s unfair, but that’s how it is…”

“The krogan have only allied with the krogan because of their achievements in the scientific fields! They’re only together because they need them!” Tavis grumbled.

Syrus growled. “Of course they do! As I said, it’s unfair, because it puts the blame only on us. I’m telling you, if you’d asked _anyone_ ten years ago what they thought of the genophage, they would’ve said it was a necessary evil to stop a greater evil! People forget that the krogan were conquering and raging havoc everywhere. We defeated them and were accepted into the Council.”

Syrus took a deep breath to calm himself. “But as I was saying, it’s unfair, but alliances are not made out of friendship. Friendship require self-sacrifice solely to help the other because you like him, while alliances are made out of self-interest.”

Calah chuckled wryly. “And I thought Garrus was a pessimist…”

“I’m not a pessimist, just a bitter, old man,” Syrus replied with a shrug.

“Yeah, but you’re not _that_ old,” the youngest of them interjected.

He raised his brow plates, his mandibles twitched unfathomably. “Why, thank you, Tavis.”

Tavis’ eyes widened slightly. “I – I didn’t mean you’re ancient, just… just… mature.” He groaned, but grinned, when the others laughed.

“What the kid is trying to say-” Here Tavis scowled at Calah, who ignored him. “-is that age is a sign – usually – of maturity and wisdom. And you _look_ the part.”

Syrus tilted his head. “You make it sound like I’m really not-”

“Reaching the age of 50 and still being sent on a mission like ours is a big deal,” Garrus spoke up. “You’ve got the experience and the reputation.” He huffed. “Plus you’re not as delusional and out of reality like so many others… Most people your age would’ve probably taken less stressful jobs or are in a higher position. People there usually forget what it’s like out here...”

“You sound bitter. You sure you’re only 36?” Calah quipped, elbowing him.

He rolled his eyes, but stayed silent.

The quiet didn’t last very long. Tavis jumped, scaring everyone else.

“I see him!” he cried out in a hushed whisper.

Garrus shushed him and put a tense hand on his shoulder, effectively forcing him to lay low. His hand reached for his rifle. He placed it before him, on a stone, and looked through the visor.

“It’s him,” he confirmed quietly.

The others hummed in excitement and Garrus couldn’t suppress the relieved rumble in his chest. There was hope.

Garrus stood up cautiously. “We’ll meet him halfway,” he decided. “Oh, and I’m not a pessimist, Calah,” he added almost as an afterthought.

It took her a couple of seconds to understand to what he was referring to, but when she did, she blinked and gave him a wry look.

“That’s what’s been bothering you?!”

“Yes. You see, I’m a glass half-empty kind of guy, you know?”

“That’s pessimism.”

“No, it’s not.”

Her mandibles flared in exasperation. “It _is,_ Commander.”

“No. Pessimism means seeing the bad in everything. I, however, see that the glass is half empty, but not completely empty _yet,”_ Garrus explained.

“I’m not sure you understand the metaphor…” she said.

“Yes, I do. I just don’t think you understand what I mean.”

Tavis muffled his laughter. Calah rolled her eyes.

“Whatever,” she said. “You always say you expect the worst, because that way it’s more likely to be pleasantly surprised! That’s being pessimistic, Garrus.”

“No, it’s just preparing for the worst. Like a vaccination,” he replied. “Getting one, because you’re afraid of dying of a horrible disease, does not make you a pessimist.”

“The dictionary defines pessimism as ‘ _the tendency to see, anticipate, or emphasize only bad or undesirable outcomes, results, conditions, problems’_ and ‘ _that the existing world is the worst of all possible worlds, or that all things naturally tend to evil’_ ,” Tavis quoted, turning off his omni-tool.

Calah’s mandibles spread into a triumphant smirk. “See?! That’s-”

“Sir, he’s getting nearer,” Syrus whispered.

Garrus nodded in thanks and crouched behind a low wall, his team mates following his example.

In the silence that followed, then began to vibrate as it neared its inevitable end, they heard Calah whisper:

“You’re still a pessimist, Vakarian.”

They watched the small, moving form of their spy gradually become bigger as he approached them. Soon, he was climbing up the stairs to the main plaza. They waited until he had crossed the crumbling arch, before they made an appearance.

 “I was wondering when you’d show up,” Garrus said.

Baxihr shrugged and showed no sign of surprise or being caught off guard. An ugly bruise had swollen the right side of his face.

“Was delayed. Had to evade some patrols.”

Syrus jerked up in attention. “Are your people patrolling the area?!”

“Yeah. All around Skarr.”

_“Satah,”_ Calah and Syrus snarled simultaneously, staring at each other with a faint glare.

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” Syrus hissed. “They’re your people! You should know!”

The krogan huffed. “I’m _not_ on their side,” he said firmly, with a stubborn edge in his voice. He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself.

“You don’t look like it,” the turian with the yellow markings said sharply. If the words hurt him, the krogan didn’t show it.

“I’m risking my life to help you,” he pointed out.

To that Syrus had no reply, except a stubborn glare. He retreated slightly when his commander stepped forward, and said nothing more.

“So, what do you got for me?” Garrus asked, before anyone could start arguing.

“I have an idea how you could win time while you wait for backup,” Baxihr said and motioned him to sit with him. “It wasn’t easy finding out what I know… but it was worth it.”

He cleared his throat. “How badly do you want Skarr back?” he asked the turian, squinting his eyes.

“We wouldn’t exactly say no if you just gave us the city back,” Garrus answered.

“Well, you see there’s canalizations running underneath Skarr. They’re mostly under surveillance, because they lead out of the city – or in, depending on where you’re standing. But I discovered that there are two that are kinda out of the spectrum. The surveillance has a glitch or something. It turns off for a few hours every Thursday.”

“What hours?” Garrus asked.

“That’s the thing. It changes. Sometimes it’s at 1a.m., other times it’s at 2 p.m.” he replied.

Garrus frowned. “And there’s no way of knowing when it’ll turn off? What happens if the cameras catch something moving?”

“It shoots at first sign of movement,” Baxihr said. “Listen, getting in is no problem. It’s easy, I think. The tricky thing is leaving without being noticed and caught in the process.”

“We’ll have to take this to the Primarch,” Calah said to Garrus.

“I agree,” he said lowly. “I’d like to check the area, before telling him, just to make sure. But it’s unlikely, what with all the patrols roaming around…”

“So, what will we do, sir?” Tavis asked.

Garrus took his time. He stood up, began pacing from one side to the other. “Nothing today,” he finally said. “What I do want, is to know more about Sakkem, Baxihr.”

“What do you want to know? I already told you the important stuff,” the krogan spy said.

“I want to know about the people closest to him,” Garrus said.

Baxihr shook his shoulders. “Not much to tell,” he replied. “There’s four of them. He has an asari consort, heh.”

Calah flicked a mandible in distaste. “I thought he wanted to purify the bloodline,” she snarled.

He laughed. “Yeah, well… can’t blame a man for taking every chance at getting some. Besides, there’s stuff you can’t do with your female.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“So, he has a female and an asari consort. Add to that four krogan in his inner circle, we have six people, who know him the best,” Garrus said. “What about the salarians?”

“There’s not much to tell, really,” Baxihr answered. “As far as I know, a half of them is either in the science facility or distributed between Skarr and Ilva. The guys at the science facility are switched every few weeks or so.”

“The science facility… is that where you keep the prisoners?”

“Guess so. They’re definitely not in any of our cities…”

Garrus turned his face away, his mandibles drawing tight to his face at the thought of what his people must be enduring under the salarians and krogan right now. A look to the side showed him that his team was just as disturbed by the thought.

“I hope you’re not thinking of going after them,” Baxihr said. “I’ve never been there personally, but I know people who did, and believe me everyone hates it there.”

“That’s why we need to go,” Garrus spat with a low growl in subvocals.

Baxihr watched with a shake of his head as one by one, each team member stood up and walked over to stand by Garrus.

“You’re crazy,” he griped. “The place is more guarded than the Citadel Council. There’s no way you’ll get there in one piece. And let’s not even start with what will happen after you’re caught. Because they will catch you and torture you and trust me: death will be the last thing they’ll give you. And even then, they’ll make it horrible.

“Listen, I’m open to help you with this stupid war. But if you want to go to the science facility, then you should just kill me before you do. Because let me tell you, they’ won’t ever get me.”

A silence as cold and dark as the night spread between them, while they mulled over what Baxihr had just said. The three team members looked at Garrus, waiting expectantly for his decision.

Garrus’ mandibles twitched and his subvocals thrummed with tension and fear. Whatever the decision, the result could be deadly for them and for others. He closed his eyes and released a deep breath. He sighed. When he opened his eyes, the look in the blue depths was a sad, resigned one.

“We’re telling the Primarch first.”

*

And tell him, he did.

Garrus and Primarch Latus met to discuss the latest news in private, while most turians were having lunch, and they stayed locked together in the room until nearly midnight. A decision was made and a plan formed.

The turian military stationed in Rubrum would leave their posts, all except for Salva. They would head to Satah/Skarr and fight the krogan. In the meanwhile, Garrus would enter the city through the canalization with three other groups as back-up. Their mission was to destroy every patrol, ever threat that loomed inside. They would deactivate the shields surrounding the city, thus allowing the turian military to enter the city and either capture the enemy or drive them out.

Latus and Garrus agreed that the alarms in the canalizations were a minor threat as long as the turian military kept them busy and distracted on the walls.

The opportunity to kick ass and reconquer their city came up twelve days after their first meeting with Baxihr. The call to arms came for many out of nowhere, but Garrus had previously been eying several people for the stealth teams and taken them aside to train with them a few days before.

The turians stirred in the middle of the night, but no complaints were uttered, when the generals and commanders of the upcoming battle marched by. The soldiers stood in line, backs straight, looking motionless forward.

The clarion rang through the barracks. One war tank after the other left the safety of Prima’s gates behind. The citizens, asleep or distracted by one form of entertainment or the other, were startled and confused. This military action was decided so suddenly that no one was prepared to cheer them on as they left to fight their enemies.

They drove on for a few miles, and when they passed by Salva, the stealth group split from the army and went their own way.

Garrus peered out of the shuttle Syrus was in charge of driving. He watched the army move on. The general, a turian Garrus had become very fond of during his stay in this foreign planet, raised his fist and shook it as if to say ‘don’t worry. We got this.’ Garrus was worried, but no so much that he blind to the possibilities of their victory.

He stayed outside for a few minutes. The shuttle advanced as if it was driving on lazy waves, the wheels twisted the wild grass flat, squeezing the juices out of them, until the air smelled of spring and life. Garrus took a deep breath, inhaling the various scents, which were different from his homeworld and still familiar. It was amazing how nature, whether untouched or adapted to sentient beings, could evoke such calm in anyone with a spirit. He gazed upwards. The sky was covered by the night, but the endless stars shone down on them, not haughtily, but pure.

Garrus felt sadness rise within him, and with sadness came the anger and the decisiveness. Here they were on their way to fight to reclaim what was theirs. The near future held no answers, but possibilities: would they die or live? Would spirits favor the turians or the krogan?

He hated the uncertainty before each battle. He always preferred storming in with an idea of what to expect. It didn’t matter if the odds were very low or leaning more in their favor; he hated not knowing.

Eventually, the stargazing came to an end, and Garrus told himself that it was time to enter into the shuttle again to check on his team.

They didn’t talk much during the drive except to exchange comments about the scanners, and possible strategies.

Two hours after the stealth team had split from the army, they arrived at Satah, now Skarr.

The krogan had reinforced the walls, but no guards were visible. Most of them were most likely fighting against the turians on the other side.

The stealth team stopped a mile from the city and continued on foot. Finding the canalization took longer than expected, finding the right tunnel was even harder. A tech expert from Team 3 deactivated the security cameras, the rest destroyed the dormant mechs.

The four teams allowed themselves a brief moment to breathe, before they left the canalizations. Team 2 killed a distracted guard without even emitting a sound. They advanced, eliminating the few krogan and even fewer salarians wandering the area. The thought of making fun of the krogan’s unpreparedness crossed his mind, but Garrus didn’t want to tempt fate, and instead opted for being grateful.

They arrived at the assigned spot, and the four teams split up again. They would meet at the security tower again and take over to finish the battle, before it had a chance to escalate. But they had to be quick and quiet. Every move had to be calculated beforehand. One false step and the whole plan could blow up in their faces and become the worst turian defeat in Rubrum’s history. And Garrus didn’t want to be remembered as the guy, who’d been behind a failed plan.

“I hope this will work,” Calah said.

“I hope so too,” said Garrus. He cast one last glance at the sight in front of them. A guard was marching back and forth, rifle in his arms. Garrus breathed in deeply, readied his sniper rifle and aimed. He breathed out slowly and shot. The krogan gave a surprised grunt, but Garrus pulled the trigger again, before he could regenerate.

Quietly, they stormed the city, eliminating the few patrols left behind to guard this side as the rest battled against the turian army. Once in a while, he heard affirmative whispers through the comm, signaling that way how well the other groups were progressing.

A gasp brought them to a halt.

_“Shit. Incoming,”_ Team 4 said and fell quiet.

Almost instinctually, Garrus and his team took cover, though there was no one about to kill them.

_“Threat removed,”_ Team 4 announced.

“Great work, Four. Didn’t hear a thing,” Team 2 said.

“Team 3, how close are you to the target point?” Garrus asked.

_“The main road is blocked, Commander. The krogan blocked it. It will take longer to get there.”_

Garrus gnashed his teeth. “Okay. Two, stay put until Three’s in. One out.”

“What do we do now, Commander?” Tavis asked.

“We stick to the plan,” he said and led the way.

They had walked deeper into their lost city for about five minutes, when the next problem rose.

_“Team 1, a patrol is headed your way. Do we engage?”_

With a muffled curse, Garrus signaled his team to take cover on the building they had just passed.

“No, Four. How many?”

_“About ten. Could be more, though. It’s hard to tell with the lights out.”_

We’ll take care of it,” he said and turned to his team. “Be on guard. Let’s find a good spot to lie low.”

“But shouldn’t we get rid of the patrol first?” Calah asked.

“Not directly. They are at least ten men. We’re four, and these bastards regenerate fast. We’ll take them out _quietly_ and without direct contact, understood?”

They ran as quietly as they were able to with their heavy armor and headed away from their previous spot. They must have run for five minutes, when Tavis, who was the fastest, stopped to a halt and turned back with a muted cry.

“Oh shit, they’re there!” he cried.

Garrus looked and huffed. “No… no, it’s another one.”

A second patrol was headed in their direction as well, and they were too close for their liking.

Garrus allowed himself to pause for a moment and think. He looked around. His eyes focused on a hulky building on the other side of the street on their right.

“We’ll hide there,” he said, pointing at the sturdy building.

The turians entered the building quickly. Garrus closed the door behind them and lead them to the second floor.

“How fucked are we?” Tavis asked, yelping slightly when he was at the receiving end of one of Calah’s punches. He rubbed his shoulder. “What was that for?”

“Would you be quiet?” she hissed, shoving him again. “We’re not on a playground! We’re stuck in a building!”

“Be quiet. Both of you,” Syrus whispered. “They’re coming.”

A splintered part of a patrol entered the building, consisting of five krogan and six salarians. Garrus’ team hid in the shadows, making themselves as small as possible as they waited for them to pass.

One by one, they killed them all. No sound, except for breathless grunts and the hiss of dying sighs, was heard in the darkness. Garrus could feel his heartbeat in his throat. His mouth was dry, the taste of the red leaves had disappeared. He was thirsty and his stomach churned with tension. He took a deep breath and was about to join Syrus and Tavis, who had wandered off to the opposite direction during the stealth attack, when the other patrol, the one Team 4 had warned them about, entered the building.

He met Calah’s feared-stricken face as she held the struggling salarian in a tight hold. She twisted her arms, jerked his neck to the side, breaking it. She lowered his body carefully, Garrus reaching out to place the dead salarian on his side and adding that way another layer between them and the coming cross-fire.

_“Team 1, do you copy?”_ Team 4 asked, making the hidden turians jump.

Garrus’ mandibles tightened. His eyes glanced over to the patrol. They were more than ten. Team 4 had said ten, but in reality the patrol consisted of 17.

“How many grenades do you have?” he whispered at Calah.

“Only two,” she said as quietly as possible. “I- I was saving them for the real battle.”

“That won’t be happening, unless we kill them all,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the krogan and salarians. “They’re too many for us to take. There’s no way we can kill them quietly.” He released a breath slowly. “We fight,” he said. “Use the grenades.”

Calah looked as if she wanted to say more, but gave him a nod.

“Do you want me to tell the others?”

“No. I’ll do it myself,” he said.

He never got that far.

_“Team 1? Commander, is everything alright?”_

Syrus and Tavis were watching their leader making his way up to them. Garrus gestured them to walk towards him. They nodded. Slowly, they creeped away from their hideout, risking brief glances at the wandering patrol. Tavis reached Garrus first, who gestured him to join Calah, when the ground underneath Syrus gave out and he tumbled down, alerting the krogan of their presence.

Silence followed the noise. The patrol and the turian infiltrators stared at each other.

“Kill them,” the krogan leader and Garrus said.

The hall erupted into gunfire. Calah cursed and threw a grenade, ducking as the heat of the explosion hit them.

“Keep them busy!” Garrus shouted at Tavis and Calah. Not waiting for an answer, he jumped down the hole on the floor to defend Syrus from the onslaught.

Syrus was stuck beneath the rubble. He groaned and wriggled, grunted and pushed, but it was too heavy to lift. The debris dug into his armor. His back and right leg ached from the fall.

Garrus landed heavily on his feet and shot at a salarian, who had gotten too close to them. An overload shattered a krogan’s shields and Syrus, who recovered for a moment enough, killed him.

“It had to be now,” Garrus said with a shake of his head.

_“Commander!”_ Team 4 cried into the comm.

“I’m busy!” he shouted, snatching a thermo clip from his belt and reloading his rifle.

“DOWN!” Syrus yelled and lay back as another enemy attacked them.

Garrus grunted from the heat of the biotic charge. “Tavis, Calah! Keep them off our backs!”

“They’re too many! We can’t-”

Calah jumped after the other two turians. Her shields broke under the salarian’s incineration. She threw her last grenade. It exploded. A chunk of an enemy’s armor splintered, hitting Syrus on the head and rendering him unconscious.

Tavis joined his team on the ground floor, when he shouted: “Watch out!”

He pushed Garrus away as the last salarian aimed a grenade-shaped device at him. An orange-colored mist sprayed out of the device and right at Tavis’ face. He coughed, stumbled away. Garrus and Calah’s scanners beeped furiously, until they put on their helmets. Garrus let out a cry and threw himself at the salarian and kicked him in the head until he stopped moving.

“Great. Chemical warfare. What’s next?” he drawled, subvocals trilling angrily.

“At least they can’t penetrate our helmets,” Calah said. “Imagine if they did…”

Garrus cleared his throat and walked over to Tavis. “Don’t know,” he said. “Come on, Tavis, get up.”

Calah sighed. “Look what he did,” she said, pointing at the ugly gash on his shoulder. It was bleeding.

Garrus sighed as well and dropped to the floor beside him. He reached out to treat the injury, when a cold shiver ran down his spine. He opened his eyes again and found the whole place mistier than before. It had to be the influence of the gas. He’d put on his helmet quickly, but not fast enough to avoid that completely.

Tavis groaned as he squirmed.

“Don’t move,” Garrus snarled as he applied medigel to the leaking wound. “Calah, check if Syrus’ okay.”

_“Grrrrrgggnnnnn,”_ the young turian gurgled and squeezed his eyes shut. “ _Siiiirr….”_

Garrus, whose patience was already running on overload and close to bringing his whole nervous system crashing down, tightened his mandibles and breathed out from his nose in an attempt to stay calm.

“Syrus is knocked out, Commander. But he’ll be fine, I think. I gave him some medigel, just in case, though,” Calah said.

“I’m _DYING_ , Commander!” Tavis screamed.

“No, you’re not,” he replied dryly. He gave Calah a look and she, after rolling her eyes, began unfastening Tavis’ armor. “Now shut up and let us work, soldier.

“His eyes are a swollen and red. Must be the gas,” Garrus said after running a basic scan on the young turian’s vitals. "First thing you'll do once we're back is go to the infirmary."

“It feels like I’m _burning alive!”_ Tavis cried out.

“Oh, shut up, will you?” groaned Syrus. He sat himself up and ran a hand over his face, taking extra time to rub his forehead. “You’re in hostile place, about to go to war, so act like it!”

“Says the one, who spent the last part unconscious!”

Syrus growled.

There’s a certain amount of the bullshit Garrus could stand, and it was swiftly reaching its limit. He lets out a low growl himself, but the dual-tone only adds to the threatening sound. Its effect is immediate. Tavis and Syrus stop talking and turn to their commander.

“We head out immediately. We need to warn the others. If they tried to use this weapon against us, you bet they’ll try it out on our army.” His mandibles flared and his eyes darkened. “So, you better get a grip and keep whatever bothers you until we’re safe. Understood?”

“Understood, Commander,” they said in unison. They were ashamed.

They were leaving, when Garrus spoke to the other groups via comm device.

“Team 3, status report!”

_“We’re on the other side,”_ came the quick response. _“Had to fight some patrols. Lost Massa and Tarquin, but other than that… Team 2 is already on its way.”_

Garrus nodded, heart dropping at the mention of the fallen. “Good. To all teams, the salarians have a new toy. An orange gas. The consequences of it are still unknown. I suggest you all wear your helmets, unless you want to experience it firsthand.”

_“Thanks for the warning, Commander,”_ said Team 3.

They left in a hurry. It was almost four in the morning. They had lost half a precious hour. The clock was ticking, it mocked them as they raced towards the security tower. They took cover behind a shaky wall.

The area was surrounded by krogan. It seemed they were not as dumb as Garrus had hoped, and posted guards around it.

“These bastard!” hissed Calah. “Why aren’t they fighting at the wall?”

“They had to be good at something,” Syrus said, subharmonics thrumming nervously as he looked at the wandering krogan.

Garrus’ mandibles flared. “Shit…” he muttered. “Stealth Team, are you in position?”

_“Yes, Commander.”_

“Are there as many krogan on your side, too, or are we the lucky ones?”

“ _Luck is very generous today, Commander. It hasn't ignored us yet.”_

Next to him, Syrus shook his head. Garrus chuckled lowly.

“Confronting them directly could be suicide… we can’t risk them alerting the krogan army at the front... but there’s no way we’ll get inside without being noticed…” He sighed and turned to his team.

“There’s no way around it,” he said. “We’ll have to split up again.”

Syrus nodded.

“Stealth team, we’ll have to split up,” he said through the com device.

_“We thought so too, Commander,”_ Three said.

“Two, Three, you stay behind. Give them hell and more.”

_“Yes, Sir.”_

“Be like the Reapers. Terrify them.”

_“We’ll try. How much time do we have until…”_

“You have ten minutes to get ready,” Garrus replied. “Once we’re inside the security tower, I suggest you try to lose them by going back where we came from, but that’s up to you.”

_“Yes, Commander.”_

Garrus exhaled slowly. He caught Tavis eyes and gave him a reassuring nod.

“Four, you still there?” he asked.

“ _Yes, Sir.”_

“Good. We’ll enter the tower through the side entrance, do you see it?”

There was a short pause. “ _Yes. It’s a bit farther away than the main entrance, though.”_

“Yes. We’ll enter through the other one, because I intend on getting there in one piece,” Garrus said, biting down the sudden surge of irritation within him.

They almost didn’t make it inside. And when they were inside the building, another horde of salarians and krogan was waiting for them and both Team 1 and 4 were forced to take cover. One of the members of Team 4 got into crossfire and died. His partner grabbed his body and used it as a shield as the enemies fired power after power on him. Syrus, who was closest to him, and bleeding from a head wound left by a biotic throw, pulled the turian to him, fired and killed the salarian responsible for the turian’s death.

How the hell were they going to make it to the central?

_“We’re losing ground here, Commander!”_ shouted Team 3.

Garrus ground his teeth, aiming his omnitool at a stubborn krogan and successfully disabling his shields. His knee got hit by something, but he didn’t have enough time to worry about that.

“Team Four, move forward!” he shouted, shooting a concussive round with his assault rifle as he gave the order.

“Two, Three! Get out of there! Lead them out!”

_“Thank you, Commander!”_

Garrus watched how first two, then three turians of Team 4 died, while his own team tried to cover them as much as possible. Four out of seven climbed up the stairs.

“Team 1, move!” he shouted.

With him on the lead, the four of them followed their partners to the first floor.

There were enemies everywhere it seemed, but only one more staircase and they were there. Fulfilling the mission was the first priority. If they disabled the security controls the turian army had a great chance to reconquer Satah.

“Move forward!” he shouted, firing and jumping from cover to cover until he reached the staircase. He was faintly aware of Syrus and Tavis following him on his heels, but lost track of Calah and couldn’t afford to see if she was alright.

A relieved sigh escaped Garrus as he caught sight of the heavily guarded security station. He rasped a breathless laugh, and it didn’t waver when his shields dropped under the furious gunfire. Team 4, or what was left of it, reached them a moment later and turians and krogan clashed in the middle. Garrus fought until he lost orientation. Distinguishing between enemy and ally was an automatic task, the movements – pulling the trigger, reloading his gun, ducking and shooting again – done like a drone. He tasted blood and heat of thermal clips. His knee hurt; he could barely put pressure on it. His head throbbed – later he would hope that he didn’t have another concussion.

It was impossible to tell how long the fight lasted. Time lost any meaning or stopped existing in general. But from one moment to the other, Garrus somehow regained awareness. A krogan fell under his desperate attack. Looking around dully, he noticed he was but a few steps away from the controls. He reached out, when lightning hit between his shoulder blades. Garrus keened in pain as his shields shattered. He grasped frantically for his rifle, but the weapon slipped from his bloody fingers.

He groaned in pain and forced himself to crawl forwards, gaze locked on the controls. He got hit on the shoulder and he cried out. Whimpering, he continued to crawl forward, leaving a blue trail in his way. Another shot collided against his hip and this time he didn’t have the strength to scream. His broken body trembled as he struggled to move forward. But a heavy, bulky foot stopped him. The foot – it was definitely krogan – pressed on his injuries. Garrus only whimpered. And then his eyes noticed something which made his heart skip a beat. His blue eyes widened. In midst of all the chaos around them, the krogan had forgotten to guard the controls. Tavis, while they were all busy killing each other, had managed to sneak in.

The krogan grasped his injured shoulder, making the turian cry out as he was brusquely turned onto his back. The krogan, bleeding and panting, aimed his gun at Garrus’ face. Garrus laughed, spitting out blood.

“Stop laughing, you dumbass,” the krogan growled.

Garrus continued to laugh. “Fuck you, you moron.”

Tavis, unsure what button to press, opted for the more barbaric option. He cut all the wires. It worked. The lights died with the scanners and the shields around the city.

Stunned silence spread over the darkness in the security tower. Garrus was laughing, his stomach churning uncomfortably. He grasped his gun and shot the krogan in the face.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rather tame chapter.

Shepard departed from Tuchanka happier than when she arrived. She was well aware that Wrex had still a long way to go, but if anyone could make it, then him. She gave Joker the order to stop at the planet Alpria to recharge for a day or two, before they continued the long journey to Rubrum, and to find out more about the salarian-krogan alliance.

There was a brief moment where she considered to go straight up to her cabin to relax. But she had seen Sol and James head together to the mess-hall, chatting and laughing. The need to socialize, to spend time with her friends made something inside her twist uncomfortably. She ate with her crew almost every meal. But why did she feel then as if she hadn’t seen them in weeks? Why did she feel as if she knew less about them than before?

Shaking herself, Jane decided then to follow James and Solana to the mess-hall. Maybe she could ask Miranda and Liara to join them.

It turned out that the latter was already there.

James and Solana sat in front of Liara, listening to her as she talked. They had all full plates and filled glasses. Their obvious different physical appearances – Sol’s mandibles and cowl, Liara’s crest and blue skin, and Vega’s… well, everything was normal about him...- made their joining so much funnier.

“So, do asari have something like puberty?” James asked. “Do your teenage years last longer than with humans?”

“I was always curious about that,” Solana said and tilted her head sideways, looking curiously at the asari.

Liara smiled and placed the cup back on the table. “We have different phases,” she answered. “But I am not sure if they can be compared to humans or turians.”

James nodded pensively. “Come to think of it, do turians go through puberty as well?”

Solana rolled her eyes, her mandibles spread into a smirk. “We do, Vega.”

“You know I’m waiting for details, right?”

“What do you want me to say? Puberty sucks. Your hormones are all over the place, and everybody knows, because of our superior sense of smell and the lack of control of our subvocals.” Her mandibles fluttered as she exhaled. The long fork between her fingers cluttered on the plate. “I’m telling you… puberty was horrible for me…”

“Puberty starts when you are around 13, 14, does it?” Liara said.

“No, with turians it’s a bit later. 15, 16,” she said.

James’ brows furrowed. “Really? Does it last longer?”

She shrugged. “Until you’re 19, I think.”

The man nodded again. “How long does puberty last with asari?”

“May I ask what brought about this question?” Liara sighed. “As I said, we have different phases or stages, three to be exact. We go through the maiden stage – it starts as we enter puberty. That stage is mostly about the rising urge to explore, to experience. Depending on the… _maturity_ of the asari that phase can last longer or end sooner.” She smiled mildly, but it wasn’t a kind smile. “Others never grow out of it.”

“Judging by the way you talk about it, I guess yours didn’t last very long,” James said.

She shrugged, hand brushing over the table, wiping the crumbs off it. “It’s true. A lot of my friends became dancers, prostitutes, strippers… all things I had always frowned upon.

She gave James a fond smile.

“I’d read many books written by human females, who talked about dignity, and objectification and many other books on human philosophy. As I grew older and I started to reach the age where the maiden stage usually begins, I came to realize I wanted to be different than my other sisters. I was always fascinated by history. By the hidden mysteries the earths have taken with them. So I thought, instead of wasting my time dancing or joining a mercenary or criminal group like Eclipse, I will do something useful. Something that will be remembered.”

“So you became an archeologist.”

She smiled. “I did.”

“So, what’s the other stage?”

“The matron stage and matriarch stage.” Liara shrugged. “The first is about having your own family and the last one is about working for your community.”

“Sounds interesting,” he said.

“Sounds a bit underwhelming,” Solana commented. “Like, the first 200 years you spend… I don’t know… going through adventures and then – bam! – it’s over.”

“It’s not like that,” Liara interjected. “Having adventures is fine, but it can only bring you so far.”

“Yeah. Adventures are cool only in memory. It’s not fun, when you’re in the middle of it.”

The three looked up, surprised at seeing their commander standing at the door.

“Lola! We didn’t hear you come in,” Vega said.

She grinned. “I like eavesdropping.”

“You didn’t miss much,” he replied. “We were talking about the curious life of the asari.”

“So I heard,” she said and side-eyed Liara with a light smirk. “In what stage are you now, Liara?”

Solana and James snickered, while Liara rolled her eyes.

“I knew this was coming…” she sighed, but her annoyance was only an act. A smile quivered on her lips. “I’m still in the maiden phase.”

Vega chuckled. “ _Still?_ How old are you?”

“A hundred and thirteen.”

“A hundred and thirteen?!” James gaped and rubbed his forehead. “Does that make you a teen then in their eyes?”

“No. I am an _adult.”_

Solana huffed an incredulous laugh. “That’s what a teenager would say.”

Liara stared at them with exasperation. “Well, I am _not_ a teenager. Unofficially, my maiden stage is practically over really.”

“Why? Because you’re not out partying until you drop?” James quipped.

“No… because I have an actual job. I have honorable responsibilities. I am not like most young asari.”

Shepard’s mouth twisted into a grin. “That’s what a teenager going against the main-stream would say.”

Liara groaned. “You know what? Forget it! It doesn’t matter. It’s impossible to have a mature conversation with short-lived species!”

Her friends laughed at her, and eventually Liara herself gave in and joined them, albeit ruefully. She rubbed her neck.

“Shut up,” she said weakly.

James reached out to pat companionably her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Liara,” he said patronizingly. “You’ll outlive us all.”

 “That took a solemn turn,” Solana muttered, turning back to her still full plate.

“I do not see it as solemn,” Liara said. “Our long live spans are something… well… it is what it is. It’s what makes us asari. We are born with the knowledge that we’ll outlive most people we meet. The time we are apart doesn’t lessen the meaning of the time we spent together, you know?”

“You’re right…” Solana said, mandibles shifting pensively. “If you live that long… you have to see life in general from a different perspective or else you’d go mad.”

The conversation then turned to topics, which were a bit more pleasant. They talked movies, TV-shows, music… They didn’t mention anything relating to politics. Wading into that territory would inevitably bring up the one topic no one wanted to talk about: the growing tension in the galaxy surrounding the turians and krogan.

Once they had finished their meals they got up, chairs screeching as they pushed them back. Solana and James returned to their anointed places, while Shepard and Liara stayed behind.

The two exchanged glances. Shepard offered her friend a rather forced smile, but Liara returned it full-heartedly, but the effort behind it was evident.

“Shepard, may we talk privately?” Liara said, forbidding herself from second-guessing herself. This conversation needed to happen; and Liara wanted to get this over with before they arrived at Rubrum.

Shepard’s brows rose slightly, but she gave her friend a curt nod. “Sure.”

“Let’s go to your cabin, if you don’t mind?”

“Alright…”

The walk to Shepard’s cabin was as painful as the awkward silence that followed once they arrived. Shepard offered her a seat on her sofa and a glass of water from the bathroom. The first was accepted with relief; the second offer was politely rejected.

The quiet stretched and stretched until Shepard swore it was beginning to take a physical form. The two stared forward, occasionally risking a side-way glance and laughing breathlessly, when they were caught.

Finally, it became too unbearable for Shepard and with a clap on her knee, she asked what Liara had done while she was out.

“Oh, just the usual Shadow-Broker business,” the asari answered with a wave of a hand.

A brow arched as Shepard offered her a light grin. “Is the galaxy keeping you busy enough?”

She smiled and rubbed her tired eyes. “You have no idea… as soon as I get one thing done, three new things appear on my main screen.” Liara breathed out slowly. “But enough about me. How are you, Shepard?” she asked, forcing her to meet her eyes.

Shepard shifted slightly, hands now moving to clasp together on her lap. “Fine enough… Saving Wrex’ ass definitely helped.” She frowned. “Why?”

Liara reached out to lay a hand on her knee. “I know you’ve been going through a rough time lately,” she said.

Shepard sighed, leaning back on the couch almost lazily. She rubbed her forehead.

“Saving the world is never easy,” she said tiredly. “I just…” She gave a breathless laugh. “I’m a soldier. I was trained to fight in wars, but I never thought… that my mission would be to stop one, you know?”

Liara licked her lips. “Shepard, there might be a war already when we arrive.”

Her eyes blazed. “I know,” she gritted. “But I have to – we have to prevent that war from spreading across the galaxy, Liara.”

The conversation was going in a direction Liara didn’t want to. They needed to talk about something else, and she was afraid to lose the thread completely.

“I know…” she tried to appease her. “It’s… Shepard, I need to tell you something.”

“You said that before.”

She huffed, growing tense and breathless as the seconds passed. “I know,” she snapped. “But it’s difficult to focus on what I want – what I need to tell you when you’re constantly on the defensive!”

Her friend opened her mouth, ready to shoot back, but caught herself just in time. Her eyes softened with guilt, and she closed her mouth again. She nodded.

“Good.” Liara took a deep breath and rubbed her hands.

“This is… there is no easy, no kind way, I think, to tell you what I found out,” she started, giving her friend an apologetic look. “You will be angry, but I need you to listen to me, do you promise?”

Shepard had crossed her arms protectively over her chest. She followed Liara’s pacing movements with her eyes. When she met her gaze, something stirred in her. A sense of premonition. Whatever it was, it was certainly nothing good. Shepard swallowed.

“I promise I will let you explain.”

“Thank you,” Liara said with a relieved sigh. She brushed a hand over her crest. After mulling over it, she decided to imply, rather than confess.

“As I said I know you’ve had a rough time, Shepard. I… I have noticed a change in you.”

Shepard’s shoulders tensed. She exhaled slowly.

“I won’t start and say that I know how you feel or tell you how to grieve, but I want you to know that I’m here for you. Whenever you feel like it’s too much, that you can’t carry any more weight on your shoulder, I am here for you.”

“Shut up,” Shepard snapped, shutting her mouth with a vicious snap of her jaws as if the order had not been meant to leave her thoughts. But it was too late.

Liara gave her a sympathetic look. “Shepard, you’ve been through so much…” She stepped towards her and knelt before her. “After all you’ve done, don’t you believe you deserve a break?”

Shepard stayed silent. Her face had paled noticeably. Her fingers dug into the couch until the knuckles turned white.

“You shouldn’t be fighting anymore,” Liara said softly. “If anyone deserves to… to turn away it’s you.”

For some reason, the gentle and sympathetic timber of Liara’s voice irked Shepard more than any political debate could have.

“What do you want me to do?” she snapped, voice trembling miserably. She pushed herself upright and began pacing her cabin in a brusque manner. “To stay out of it? I can’t, Liara! _I can’t!”_

“This is not what I meant, Shepard,” the asari replied, Shepard’s aggressiveness not changing her calm, almost defeated demeanor.

“I’m tired of people telling me what I can or cannot do!” Shepard shouted. “Just leave me alone!”

Liara shook her head and held her hands out. “I just want to help you, Shepard.” Carefully, but steadily she began approaching the fuming commander, who backed away from her friend.

“I want to help you Shepard,” she repeated gently. “You have always been there for me, please let me be there for you.”

Shepard smiled stiffly. “You don’t have to,” she said dismissively.

Liara took a deep breath. “Shepard, I know about the pregnancy,” she confessed quietly, watching how Shepard turned paler and her jaw dropped open.

“No…” she croaked and tried clearing her throat.

Liara nodded, backing her friend slowly, but surely against the wall. “I know about the mission. And I know – and I know that you lost it.”

Shepard’s back hit the wall. Her chest was heaving.

“Shut up,” she commanded, her face pulling a grimace as she fought uselessly against her tears.

“You know it wasn’t your fault, Shepard.”

“SHUT UP I SAID!”

“No! You promised! Shepard, listen-”

But the woman growled through gritted teeth and shoved Liara away. As the asari flailed to regain her balance, Shepard jumped forward, hand balled into a fist and aiming at Liara’s face.

 _“Shepard!”_ she cried out, blocking the punch almost in instinct. In an unexpected move, Liara twisted her arm back and wrapped her own arms around Shepard. It was a testament to how distraught her friend was that she couldn’t, didn’t fight back, because Shepard was not one easily subdued.

Liara pulled her struggling friend closer to her chest, put her chin on her shoulder so that their cheeks touched. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Shepard,” she whispered into her ear, tightening her hold on Shepard. Her friend was shaking. A groan slipped past her lips as she grasped Liara tightly.

“Shut up!” she moaned.

“It wasn’t your fault, Shepard…”

With inhuman strength, Shepard lifted Liara up. The asari yelped shocked, the sound almost muted over the cry Jane let out as she dropped her in front of her door.

“Get – OUT!” Shepard roared, cheeks flushed and wet with tears. Her eyes glowed in unholy anger and pain. They were the last thing Liara saw, before Shepard slammed her door shut, locking herself in the quiet solitude of her room.

*

The Normandy SR-2 docked on the merchant planet Alpria late in the morning, although the streets were so illuminated, the sky covered by smog that it was impossible to tell the hour or the color of the sky.

Alpria was noisy, blank and everything that Shepard associated with dirty businesses. The streets were clean and yet something about the air, the illumination that send Shepard’s blood boiling. Even the people had something ominous about them. It was in the hushed words between them, the mistrustful side-glances, and the polite smiles.

Her patience was at its end even before it got a chance to be tested. Her shoulders tense, her fists balled, and her steps long and determined, Shepard did not bore a welcoming sight. Miranda and Solana felt it and walked quietly and from a respectful distance after her.

“Where’s the merchant?” she barked.

“At the Merchants District,” Miranda answered. She didn’t look particularly faced by the spectre’s cold behavior. Perhaps it was because she herself was colder.

They walked quickly ahead, took the elevator up, and it was no surprise that people stepped aside when they saw Commander Shepard approach. Her anger transmitted itself down to her ground team; Miranda fumed quietly, Solana’s subharmonics thrummed.

The elevator ride was as excruciatingly long as the one on the first Normandy, perhaps as bad as the elevator to the Council. But they got there eventually.

The entire block was busier than the docking bay. People walked in and out of stores. Snuck through backdoors. Exchanged handshakes and money. Yeah, Shepard couldn’t wait to find the merchant.

Last night had not been kind to Shepard. After throwing Liara out, she had raged in her cabin. After she had calmed down – or left void of any feeling – she had dropped on the upturned couch and slid to her knees on the littered floor. Shepard then spent the next half hour tidying her room. When she was done, like the responsible adult she was, Jane took a shower, but the cold water and the intense scrubbing of her skin didn’t remove the bitterness or the how dirty she felt.

“What’s the shop of the guy called?” Miranda asked suddenly.

“’Alternative Technologies’,” Shepard answered. “It’s owned by a salarian named Galm Polus. I hope he’s there today, because I’m really not in the mood to chase after him.”

Solana and Miranda gave her a cautious glance, but chose to stay silent.

“Over there,” Solana said, pointing at the shop’s blinking neon sign. Her dual voice released a disdainful sound. “Doesn’t look like much.”

Shepard’s lips pursed. “It really doesn’t. Makes you wonder what kind of ‘alternative technologies’ they sell…”

“What do we do if the place is watched? By guards, I mean.”

“I’d rather not draw any attention to us,” she said. “This place reeks of shady business. I wouldn’t be surprised if this place is filled with spies. We’ll just ask Polus for a private audience, if he says no, we’ll drag him to his office anyway.”

“So, we’re not to attack, unless they shoot first?”

Shepard nodded and marched into the shop. An asari walked past them, shutting the door behind her in the progress. Her bag was suspiciously full. Shepard looked around. The few shelves in the shop were full, but none of the items were familiar to her. She was almost tempted to say they were vintage – of an age long gone, like the early 21st century. Aside from her team, there was only one client, an elderly turian female, shoulders hunched and plates cracked with age. Two salarians stood behind the counter; one of them was checking the storage, the other was listening to the turian female’s complaints.

Shepard stepped up to the former, clearing her throat to catch his attention. His bulbous eyes widened in recognition, and Shepard noticed with satisfaction that he was not happy to see her.

This guy was definitely hiding something.

She gave him her best polite smile, which seemed only more threatening with the scars on the side of her face.

“Galm Polus, right?” She grasped his hand and shook his hand. “I’m Commander Shepard, I need to talk to you in private.”

The salarian shop keeper swallowed and withdrew his hand. “An honor, Commander Shepard. If – if you don’t mind, come by in an hour. I’m busy with the storage.”

“No can do,” she said promptly. “I’ll be gone in an hour.”

They stared at each other for a few moments. Jane grew angrier the longer they stood there.

“Listen, Polus,” she said, placing both hands on the counter and leaning forward dangerously, looming over him like a growling storm cloud. “I already know you have what I want. And you know we’ll have this conversation whether you want it or not, so instead of making your life more difficult, why don’t you just lead me into your office?”

Polus considered his options, fidgeting under her cold gaze. Eventually, he gave in and led her and her team into his office. It was pretty large for a room in the back of a shop. It had a barred window and walls that needed to be repainted. A large wooden desk, luxurious in comparison to the rest of the furniture, stood at the back center of the room. There was one screen on it, but it was turned off.

Shepard moved to the desk, motioning him to take a seat.

“What can I do for you, Commander?” Polus asked. His nervous attitude now gone, he had taken the perfect demeanor of a polite manager, intent on making the customers happy.

She chuckled with contempt. “Oh, you don’t know?”

He shrugged. “I know many things. I can’t read minds.”

Her eyes narrowed and she forced a smile. “Well, then I’ll start by saying that I know you’re selling goods to the krogan.”

A thin smile twisted his features. “Of course I do,” he said. “I trade with all aliens. Discrimination is not in my résumé.”

“Cut the shit, Polus. You know what krogan I’m talking about.”

“I assure you, Commander. The consequences of dealing with criminals are worse than refusing to trade with them.” He spread his arms to the sides. “My business is clean.”

She slammed her fist on his beautiful table. He jumped, grew quiet immediately.

“Listen, Polus,” she snarled. “I had a shitty night, and I’m prepared to make your day just as miserable. If you value your life, your ‘clean’ business, then you better start handing out the information I need.” She took a deep breath. “I know you’re in business with Sakkem. Oh, I see you recognize his name.”

“E- Everyone knows his n-name here!”

“Cut the act. I’m not falling for it.”

“Commander, with your permission, I could try a few things to get him to talk,” Miranda spoke up.

She raised her eyebrows and looked at her fellow human. “You know, Miranda… you’re right. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that sooner.” She turned back to the quivering salarian. “See that woman? She used to be Cerberus. Did a lot of horrible things, and I’m sure she’d love to try out a few things on you.”

Polus choked on a gasp and raised his hands in surrender, eyes blinking rapidly.

“I… I might know a few things….”

A satisfied smile spread her lips. Shepard gave the shop owner a hand sign and the salarian shuffled to pull out a datapad from the safe.

“I’m risking my life, my family by giving this to you,” he whispered. His fingers clutched the datapad to his chest. “If anyone finds out about this-”

“Explain, what’s in there?” Shepard inquired, putting a hand on her tilted hip to appear less intimidating.

“I- I…” A tremor ran through his body. “I’m not sure what it’s for,” he stammered and handed the datapad over. “It’s just a list of medical instruments and chemicals. Nothing illegal except for the quantities and- and…”

“And what?” Shepard asked harshly, throwing the datapad into Miranda’s eager hands, after giving the list a fleeting look and not being able to make any of the materials listed. While Miranda studied the list with cold curiosity. The turian beside her gave it a quick look, but focused back on the merchant and her sister-in-law since she didn’t understand a word of it.

The salarian swallowed thickly. “The dealer picks it up in different places.”

“How often has he bought from you?”

“Uh… I don’t know… seven, eight times in the last couple of years? This is the second order in these last three months…” the salarian responded quickly. “But that’s not what caught my attention,” he added. “The bribe is nothing new – it happens all the time. It’s more the… choice and amount of chemicals and instruments that- that worries me a little.”

Shepard frowned thoughtfully. “Do you mean inhuman experiments?”

“I –uh – prefer the word unethical, but yes. No professional research and medical facility would ever buy this merchandise. Risk of being discovered is too big. Would end up with the closure of the facility. No more job prospects for any of the workers…”

Miranda lowered the pad. Her expression was calculating and dark. “Most of the chemicals here are used in treatments of either human or turian illnesses,” she called out. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Are the krogan and salarians experimenting on turian and human prisoners?”

The merchant blinked rapidly. “I… I don’t know. I really don’t!” he cried as Shepard raised her eyebrows. “The orders are always anonymous, the payment follows the pick-up. Always a different guy.”

Shepard made a step closer and the watched with a twinge of satisfaction how the salarian shuffled backwards.

“Who picks up the cargo?”

“I- I don’t know! It’s always a different salarian!” he whimpered. “I don’t know who they are, but the pick-up is always the same day!” He backed down further as Shepard came closer and closer, until his back hit the wall and he had nowhere to go. He raised his hands. “The place and time of the delivery is at the end of the list. Please… I swear… I swear I don’t know more! Please!”

Shepard leaned closer until she could see her reflection in his bulbous eyes. They stared at each other for long, endless minutes. His eyes must have held no hint of a lie though, for Shepard drew back with a pleased smile on her scarred face.

“Thank you for your time.”

The salarian’s shoulders dropped in relief. “You won’t tell anyone?”

Shepard stopped on her tracks, looked back to him with a fake pensive frown. “No. I won’t,” she assured him.

-

According to Polus, the pickup would happen between 1 p.m. and 3 p.m. in a booked cargo room. Shepard and her team were running late. They raced through the streets, suffered through a torturous elevator ride, and then ran some more. Their efforts were rewarded. They arrived a few minutes early.

Shepard decided she wanted to watch the exchange, before confronting them. They hid on the upper level, behind large boxes marked as ‘fragile’ and waited.

Half an hour passed, before a group of four well-armed salarians walked in. The selling goods were surrounded by them, a large mech moved the cargo forward. An hour later and the buyers arrived. A diverse group, it consisted of three asari, two salarians and a krogan. Shepard released a deep breath. Ten against three. Sure, she’d faced worse on her own and won. It would be impossible to leave this place without having drawn the attention of innocent civilians.

She sighed, met Solana’s worried eyes and gave her a reassuring nod.

“Any trouble getting here?” asked a salarian to Sakkem’s group as they made the exchange.

An asari tore open the box with surprising violence and peered inside. She gave one of her team mates a nod.

“No,” a salarian answered.

“We’ll be reaching out to you soon again,” the same asari said as the krogan began to pull the box towards the exit. “Here’s the payment.”

“Thank you. And good luck to your cause.”

“Whatever that may be,” Shepard called out, standing proud on one of the large boxes. Solana and Miranda had taken up positions on her side.

The two groups froze.

“You have two options. Either you leave without the box, or the box leaves without you. Which one do you pick?”

“Kill them,” the krogan said.

The three asari glowed blue. Shepard jumped to another box, all the while Miranda lifted up a barrier, protecting herself and Solana from the Warp.

“The second option it is!” Shepard yelled, jumping down. Using her own biotic powers, she managed to shatter an asari’s shields. She shot her a few times, her own shields reflecting the powerful attacks of her opponent, before finally killing her with the blade of her weapon. She looked up, saw how Solana attacked their enemies with her rifle.

“Sol! Take out the krogan!”

“Will do, Commander!” the turian shouted back, before directing her attacks against the krogan.

Miranda descended to the ground floor, where she met the asari, who had checked the contents of the box, in hand-to-hand combat. Shepard saw her decking the asari in the shoulder, before she was distracted by a biotic throw against her. She grunted as she collided against a nearby box. Shaking the dizziness away, Shepard realized she had fallen on a box marked as ‘FRAGILE’, although what was fragile about a set of cans she couldn’t tell. Probably something illegal.

The asari who had attacked her, threw herself on her with an angry snarl. Shepard’s eyes widened slightly. She rolled to the side just in time to see the asari land on the cans, breaking under her. An orange dust, similar to sand or powder, enveloped her like mist. The asari mercenary spluttered, squinted and tried to wave off the dusty rain. Shepard took the chance. She aimed and shot her in the face.

She was forced to take cover for her shields to regain their strength. Solana had successfully killed the krogan and had now switched to her assault rifle to battle the rest. Miranda was still fighting the same asari. Blood dripped from both women. Their faces were set in a serious and furious determination. Shepard wanted to help the doctor, but a nearby gasoline tank exploded, the heat and chunks from the boxes around it flying at her and forcing her to get down again.

She coughed and rubbed the scars on her face. A wooden splinter had left a thin line on her skin and it was bleeding slightly. Shepard’s jaws set. She heaved herself up the feet and charged.

Sakkem’s remaining mercenaries had no chance. Shepard was angry. Everything that had happened to her in the past months, whether it had been personal like the miscarriage, or not, as it was with the growing conflict between the krogan and turians, rose up in that moment. She seemed to be everywhere at once. She felt no pain in the three minutes that lasted her battle rage. Her shots were precise, cruel and cold, and left the opponents no time, no chance to cry out. Miranda had by now defeated the asari. She and Solana watched breathlessly.

Shepard turned to the last survivor, teeth gritted, and hands ready to shoot, when the salarian raised his arms and shouted: “Don’t shoot! I surrender!”

That threw her off. She glared at him over her raised weapon, green eyes studying him intently. Behind her, she heard Solana make her way down to them.

“Who are you?” Shepard demanded.

“Don’t you remember me, Commander Shepard?” he said and slowly lowered his arms. “I’m Maelon.”

Shepard furrowed her brows, lifting her gun a bit higher. Whatever or whoever she had expected to find at this location, it wasn’t Mordin’s former student.

“Maelon?” she asked roughly as she watched the salarian take the last two steps that separated them from looking at eyelevel. “I… I don’t know what I expected,” she said dryly. Then, in a much harsher voice, she asked, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Maelon holstered his weapon. “The same thing you’re doing here, I think. Research,” he answered.

The image of krogan females, lying lifelessly in a hospital in Tuchanka after enduring excruciating pain to find a cure flashed before Shepard’s eyes. Her lips thinned.

“And have you found new test subjects to entertain yourself with?” she hissed.

Maelon raised his arms in alarm. “No! That – It’s not what you think it is!”

Shepard scoffed. “So it’s just coincidence that we found you with a group responsible for selling illegal goods to a madman?”

“Well-”

“It’s probably just coincidence too that the ware consists of an illegal amount of chemicals and strange medical equipment!”

“They were also going to be shipped off to Rubrum, where a war between turians and the krogan is being fought,” Solana spoke out heatedly.

Shepard nodded and took a dangerous step closer to the salarian. 

“Yeah, we know the krogan and salarians are experimenting on turian and human prisoners!”

Maelon’s fingers intertwined, kneaded each other nervously.

“I uh… I see what this must look like to you, Commander Shepard. With my past actions and all…” he said hesitantly. “But I swear that I was just following a lead and…”

He continued to babble, getting more incoherent with every word that Shepard considered punching him in his flat, bulgy eyed face to shut him up. But instead she opted for the less violent option.

“Shut up and sit down,” she snarled, motioning impatiently at the seats scattered around the table. At the first sign of hesitation from the salarian, Shepard arched a brow and gripped her firearm tighter, and Maelon rushed to the side to take a seat. The commander sat on the other side of the table, while Miranda placed herself behind Maelon and Solana stood behind Shepard.

“I give you one minute to explain yourself,” Shepard said calmly.

Maelon blinked rapidly, fearfully, waited for her to continue with her threat and swallowed thickly when he was met with silence. He cleared his throat, then, and began.

“Wrex contacted me a few years ago. Asked for assistance in medical and scientific areas. I advised him, then I returned to Sur’ Kesh after a year,” he explained. “I kept tags on them, just in case. Curing the genophage was necessary, righting a wrong, but it wouldn’t have been necessary if the salarians hadn’t gotten involved in the krogan’s development in the first place.”

“Mordin already covered the historical background,” Shepard said. “Go on.”

“The krogan settlement on Rubrum caught my attention again. It’s worrying. Very worrying.” Maelon cleared his throat. “I went there to check it out myself – one can’t rely on the media when they are so set on ‘scape-goating’ the krogan.” He lifted his shoulders slightly. “I saw nothing unusual. Just the typical animosity between the turian and krogan race.”

“Time’s ticking, Maelon,” Shepard warned him.

“Yes! Uh… the influence of salarian politics worried me. Sakkem’s influence worried me as well-”

Her brows furrowed and she leaned forward. “What’s he like?”

“I never saw him personally. And I have never met anyone who did. But I did hear him talk and-” He took a shaky breath. “He is like no one I’ve ever met before,” he said. “He’s… very calm, never screams, but what he says and how he says it… it makes you angry. And it makes you feel worthless. Especially because there’s a certain truth to what he says.”

Solana tensed behind him, her subharmonics showed how upset she was about his explanation, but there was no other sign that emphasized it. Shepard gave her a look, but turned her attention back to the salarian in front of her.

“I’m still waiting for an explanation, Maelon”, Shepard said, tapping her fingers on the table. “And nothing you’ve said so far has impressed me. Get to the point. Now.”

“The reason you found me here is because I gained Polus’ trust a few months back. I didn’t know about the prisoners, until a month ago. I joined, because I wanted to know what Polus had to offer to a krogan like Sakkem.”

“Uh-huh, and what exactly did you find out?”

“Polus knows very little to nothing. He’s only the merchant. Doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t want to know.”

“That’s not much, Maelon,” Shepard said. “I could’ve told you that.”

“It’s hard to tell what the krogan are doing. Salarians are responsible for any research. But the salarians I talked to, either had no idea or didn’t tell me.” He shrugged. “Going to have to see it for myself, then.” To that, Maelon cleared his throat. “I knew you’d go to Rubrum sooner or later. Spectre business.”

She lifted her shoulder. “So?”

“I want to join your team,” he said and, considering the tone he used, he wasn’t requesting anything.

Shepard chuckled incredulously. “Oh, do you now?”

“Yes. You’ll see in my application-” Maelon typed something on his omni-tool and sent her his goddamn application - with recommendation letter and everything. Shepard couldn’t believe her eyes. “-that I am most suited for this kind of mission. None of my teachers – except for… you know… - or former employers found anything amiss in my works.”

“Except unethical and cruel experimentation on innocents,” Shepard remarked snappishly while reluctantly scrolling through the application.

He had at least the decency to look remorseful. “Ah... yes, my work on Tuchanka.” He shook himself and gained his composure. “I was right, though my methods were not. And it’s thanks to my experiments, my research that Mordin found a cure to the genophage,” he stated with a satisfied nod that made Shepard’s eyes narrow.

“It’s not going to happen again,” he added in reassurance. “I have learned my lesson. Science is to help civilization, to save them from ignorance and find ways to overcome difficulties by finding explanation. To use innocent lives for this purpose is wrong.

“But…” And here he paused, eying her with a mixture of innocence and smugness. “… I don’t think my experience in unethical experimentation was such a bad thing. Means I’m not afraid of killing.

“Which leads me to the next point. You need me. We don’t know what’s going on in Rubrum, but it’s easy to guess it’s bad. I’ve been there before. I know the place. How many of your crewmembers have been there, hm?”

Shepard leaned back in her chair and cast a glance back to Miranda. He was speaking as if he had memorized a script. But he spoke with conviction and the ugly truth was that her crew needed someone like him. She was close to admitting it, and it made her angrier than she already was. She released a deep sigh, squinted her eyes at him in a manner she knew was intimidating and utterly judgmental. She wasn’t hiding her mistrust, her contempt for his past crimes. She couldn’t. Jane was many things, and not all of them were good, but she was an honest woman. And, if they were to work with each other, honesty was crucial, were dislike and mistrust were so evident.

Miranda looked as if she wanted to say something, and Shepard wished she would speak up. She had a vague idea what the scientist would say. Miranda and Maelon were similar in their approaches to science; ruthless and proud and cold. There were two options if the two worked together: they would either hate and destroy each other, or get along just fine. As compelling as the first option was, for Shepard the second one was infinitely more advantageous to her cause.

“Miranda?” she asked, her eyebrow lifting slightly.

The woman in question tilted her head back slightly. She took her time to answer.

“I think he should join,” she said.

Shepard nodded and turned her attention back to the salarian.

“I don’t like it. I don’t like you,” Shepard said frankly. “But you’re right, we do need someone with your… abilities.”

“I’m grateful, Commander. You won’t be dis-”

“You better not disappoint me,” she said, eyes cold. “I don’t like working with criminals, but this mission is too important to compromise in these things. But if I ever get so much as an inkling that you might be working for Sakkem, I’ll throw you out of the airlock, understood?”

He nodded. “I do. No need to worry. I don’t work for Sakkem.”

Shepard’s eyebrows raised slightly and she gave him a mild smile, but decided to better ignore him until they were back in the Normandy. So instead she approached the box with Sakkem’s mysterious cargo. The tape marking it as ‘fragile’ kept her from opening it.

She gave Maelon a pointed look.  

“Any idea what might be in there?” she asked the salarian.

“A weapon, I assume,” was the answer.

Shepard’s eyes narrowed. “Polus’ list says there’s chemicals and medical instruments in there. Do you know why they might need them?”

“There are tons of possibilities. Considering krogan are taking prisoners, I assume experimentation with turians and humans,” Maelon answered promptly.

There was nothing Shepard could say to him that wasn’t a lie; she knew he was right, had made the same assumption the moment Polus handed them the list with the order. She berated herself for not ignoring him like she’d promised herself.

“Miranda, you take the box to the Normandy. And tell Maelon to help you with it.”

Miranda gave her a glare full of annoyance, but still followed the Spectre’s command. With a dramatic sigh she turned to Maelon and said, “You heard her, Maelon.”

“Are you okay?” Solana whispered into Shepard’s ear, while the other two began dragging the box out of the cargo hall.

“Yes,” Shepard whispered back, voiced laced with anger.

The turian decided then it was best to return to the Normandy in silence. She didn’t want to fuel her temper any more than necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the information on asari I got from Mass Effect Wiki, and the rest I made up.


	10. Chapter 10

Things on the Normandy were tense. And Shepard was aware that it was mainly because of her. It wasn’t on purpose, and she struggled to find a logical explanation to her current behavior. She was angry, and the more she fought against her anger, the angrier she got, only this time it was aimed at her.

Her crew was very jumpy around her. They probably thought she hadn’t noticed – Shepard hoped so at least – but the moment she stepped into a room all conversations came to a stop.

It was embarrassing. Not to mention, highly unworthy of a renowned war hero like Jane Shepard.

It was her fault. And up to her to fix it.

Had she been in the right mind set or had she slept well, Shepard might have gone fist to Liara and apologized for her behavior the previous night. But Shepard was neither in the right mindset nor had she slept well. So instead she went to the person she never thought she would approach.

Miranda. Or the good doctor, as Jane derogatorily called her sometimes.

“Is there something I can do for you, Shepard?” the scientist asked, when the commander knocked.

Shepard stepped tentatively inside and heard the soft swish of the door closing. She crossed her arms. There were many things rushing through her mind, but all of them were fleeting, like catching air with one’s hand.

“Yeah…” she said, not really sure how, where, to begin. “I – uh – you told me that you can’t… you know… have children.”

Miranda inhaled deeply and placed her pen on her desk. She stood up and, motioning Shepard to follow her, walked to the couch chairs placed on the other side of her room and sat. “I was wondering when you’d ask.”

Shepard nodded awkwardly. “So… I don’t really know how to ask this question…” She ran a hand through her hair and sat herself on the other chair. “How did you find out?”

“Just through the normal medical procedures. I was considering… proceeding a relationship with someone and I wanted to know if there was something that I had to know about before I made that step,” she explained clinically.

Jane released a deep sigh. “It must have been… that mustn’t have been a good day for you,” she said.

“It was... definitely disappointing,” Miranda started slowly. “It was certainly unexpected. It went against everything I thought of myself.

“My father created me to be perfect. Everything about me was modified to give in everything an advantage. My looks, my intelligence, my abilities…” Miranda brushed a stray lock from her face and tugged it behind her ear.

“I thought that, when my father created me to ensure his legacy, he had also made me… extra fertile, you know? I never thought I’d be… barren,” she said quietly. “I still can’t believe it was what my father intended. I guess, all the meddling had to have a side effect…”

“What did you do when you found out you couldn’t have any children?” Shepard asked.

Miranda sighed. “There was no time at first to do anything,” she explained. “With the fight against the Collectors and then the Reaper War… but after it was over I had no excuses left. I had to face it. It was difficult. I can’t reproduce and even though I never had the intention to have any children… well, it sucks when a choice has been taken from you, doesn’t it?

“But I’m fine now, Shepard,” she added as the other woman lowered her gaze. She stood up and placed herself in front of the window. “I’ve achieved great things. I have my own clinic where my knowledge is appreciated and needed.” She turned back to Shepard. “You and I are very different, Commander. Our situation is very different. You were blessed to be with child, when everything told you it wasn’t possible (and it still isn’t. You are an exception) and that blessing – your child – was taken from you.”

Shepard bit her lip.

“I know it’s difficult. And I understand you can’t see it yet, but I promise you will get better. You just need to give yourself time to grieve.”

Jane buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders dropped.

“I know,” she said and stood up. “I promise I will do it. I will tell Garrus. But the mission comes first.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else, Commander.” She gave a sigh. “Was that what you needed?”

“I think so, yes,” Shepard said with a light shrug.

Miranda brushed another wave of dark hair from her pale face. “You’ve been… very tense lately.”

Shepard nodded, biting her lip. “You noticed, huh?”

“It was easy enough,” Miranda replied. “I swear every time you were present I thought I could hear the clock of a bomb ticking.”

She rolled her eyes, as if to disguise the twinge of pain that laced through her heart. “Because I’m a time bomb…”

Miranda rubbed her forehead. “No… but it _is_ just a matter of time, before someone explodes.” She gave her a mild, but sympathetic smile, and Shepard couldn’t tell which one was worse. “You keep so much to yourself, Shepard... it can’t end well.”

“Yeah, well, the person, who I usually talk to is a bit busy right now,” she said with a bitter laugh.

“You mean Garrus.”

“Who else?”

Miranda studied her for a while, though the look in her eyes was less of a scientific curiosity, and more a human one.

“When did it start?” she asked.

Shepard quirked a brow. “What? Me and Garrus? Oh, during the fight against the Collectors. We had sex the night before we hit the Omega Relay.”

Miranda waved a hand. “I know that. We all talked about it. I meant, when did you begin to confide in him?”

“When did he become my best friend?”

“Yes, that.”

Shepard stayed silent for a short moment. “I think… during the fight against the Collectors,” she answered slowly. “We were good friends before, but it wasn’t until I came back to life that we became closer.”

“Aside from returning from the dead, was there something that happened that sparked it? I remember, you were very… distressed when he got hit by that rocket.”

“I was alone, Miranda,” she said with a sad smile. “You and Jacob were around, but you forget that I didn’t know or trust you. And Garrus – he was the only one who came with me. No questions asked. He didn’t even hesitate. The others…” A bitter laugh escaped her, and she was ashamed. She liked her friends. And she hated resenting them for putting their people’s needs before hers. “I needed to do something for them before they joined me. Garrus didn’t do that. He only asked to go after Sidonis when I told him we were going to the Citadel to get Thane and Kasumi.”

Miranda folded her hands and watched her thumbs circle each other. “So it was loyalty, which drew you to him in the beginning.”

Jane shook her head. “It was more than that, Miranda. Respect, admiration… a common set of values and principles. You forget, Garrus is younger than me. He also comes from a totally different culture, not to mention the fact he’s a turian and I’m a human. We are different, but we agree on the fundamental, the most important things. He trusts me and there’s no other person I trust more in the galaxy than Garrus.”

Miranda’s fine eyebrows were arched, a small smile pursed her lips.

“Why are you so curious all of the sudden?” Shepard asked carefully.

The former Cerberus agent lifted a shoulder. “Oh, just curious. I’ve never felt that way before.”

“Me neither.”

“What’s it like? Being so in love with someone?”

Jane’s features softened. There was something wistful in Miranda’s voice. It reminded her of a robot asking Man what love was. The answer was impossible to describe. Love… is many things. Like a red rose it can hurt and be the most beautiful thing at the same time.

“Give it time, Miranda,” she said softly. “Someday you’ll meet that person, and you’ll wish for the times where you didn’t know what being in love is.”

“I’m not sure, Shepard,” Miranda replied slowly, almost hesitantly. “You and I are very different. You also forget that I was-”

“You were designed to be perfect, I know,” Shepard cut in with a roll of her eyes. “This really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

Miranda’s lips thinned. She didn’t answer.

“Miranda… your father might have designed you for a certain purpose, but you still are free to choose.” Shepard leaned closer. She needed to make her understand the key difference between being _in love_ , and _loving._

“Listen, I know we all talk about falling in love, and the movies and TV shows are all about that. Forget all that. That’s not what keeps two people together. It’s love, you understand?”

The woman before her stayed silent, but Shepard swore she saw a skeptical glint in her eyes. It drove her mad. She stood up and began to pace. This was the talk long overdue, and she wasn’t sure if she was the right person to give it.

“Being in love is awesome, but the passion that fuels it leaves after a while. Sure, the passionate sex – awesome. But with time you get used to each other, and what was exciting turns… familiar. Intimate. You get to know each other as well as it’s possible to know a person. You see each other in the morning and in the evening. There are no walls to hide your ugly sides. It’s all out there.” Jane shuddered. “It’s terrifying. It’s really, really terrifying. To give yourself to another so completely, and I think that’s were a lot of people fail, you know?”

Miranda moved her head slightly.

“But anyway…” Shepard sat down again. “You don’t marry a person, because you’re _in_ love, you marry, because you _love._ And even then you should give it a great deal of thought before you take such a step. I mean, if you love someone, but can’t help but jump into bed with the first person you come across then…  And you do need to have _some_ things in common, especially in the things that really matter.”

She finished with a deep breath, deflating like a balloon. “Did that answer your question?”

“I honestly forgot what we were talking about,” Miranda said with a light shrug. But she smiled. “You really love him don’t you?”

Shepard’s smile faded. Her hands folded as a finger moved to trace the wedding band. “I do… ”

There was a brief moment of silence. Miranda was looking at Shepard, but the latter was staring absentmindedly at her feet. Then, after a bit of hesitation, Miranda reached out and clasped Shepard’s shoulder. She didn’t say anything, maybe she didn’t need to, but she gave the other woman a small smile.

It was enough to make Shepard smile back.

*

The talk with Miranda and the time of reflection after gave Shepard the incentive and the courage to knock on Liara’s door. It was something that needed to be done, and her friend deserved an honest apology and an explanation – as far as Shepard could explain what was wrong with her. Truly, anything that was about people’s hearts and souls had to be difficult to explain.

The asari was reading and scribbling on a notepad, and kept her eyes fixed on the pages. She did not look up, when Shepard entered her sanctuary, but stared stubbornly ahead.

Shepard cleared her throat. “Can we talk?”

The question made Liara loop up from her work. Shepard rarely asked for anything.  She didn’t need to. Liara put the notepad aside and turned her seat towards her friend. She looked a bit pale around the nose, but not as unhealthy as she’d seemed the day before.

“Sure. Of course, Shepard.” Liara fumbled with her hands, unsure of what to do with them and offer her a seat. Hers was the only chair in the room. The bed would have to do.

“Do… do you want to sit on the bed?”

Shepard gave a curt nod. “Thank you.”

This was another thing about her that Liara had only recently become aware off. When talking as a commander, Shepard preferred to stand; but if the subject was of a more personal matter, if she came as a friend, then she always opted for a seat.

Shepard patted the space beside her. “Would you… could you sit here with me? Please?”

Curious as to where this would lead, Liara obeyed. Awkward silence followed and it dragged endlessly, but she didn’t think it was her place to break it.

Shepard took a deep breath. She risked a quick glance at her asari friend, then returned to staring ahead.

“I am sorry for yelling, for treating you the way I did yesterday,” she said quietly, softly. “You see, I…”

Taking pity on her, Liara brushed a hand over her shoulder. She knew what scars the uniform his. And not all of them were physical.

“It’s okay, Shep-”

“ _No_ , it’s not!” she hissed, anger flushing her cheeks. “I’m _tired_ of people telling me it’s okay, when it’s obviously not the case!”

Liara couldn’t think of anything to say but, “You’re right, Shepard. I’m-”

“Don’t you _dare_ say you’re sorry!” Shepard cried. She turned away with a shake of her head. She mussed up her auburn hair, before facing again her friend.

“Why are you apologizing?” Her voice had lost its heat, its hissing intensity. Now it was broken, and Liara’s eyes widened, her heart constricted, when she noticed how Shepard’s green ones glistened with unshed tears.

“You did nothing wrong…”

Liara sighed, in a moment of weakness was forced to avert her eyes.

“I know,” she said after a while. “But I’m still sorry, Shepard. I was worried for you and was afraid you wouldn’t tell me if I asked you.”

Shepard forced a smile. “You’re right… I probably would’ve lied.” Her gaze was sad, but calm. “But it’s good that you confronted me,” she said. “It… I needed to talk about it. Even if I ended up screaming at you.

Liara gave her a small smile, which Shepard returned only hesitantly.

“To be honest, now that I had time to think about my… behavior I guess… I guess I was so upset because…” She took a shaky breath. “I never told anyone about what happened,” she whispered with a catch in her voice. “I- the only reason why Miranda knows, is because I went to her when it – when it happened.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Shepard,” Liara said, stroking her arm.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she replied. “You… I probably wouldn’t have told you I was pregnant anyway.”

A sad smile thinned Liara’s lips. “You wanted to tell him first, didn’t you?”

Shepard’s silence was answer enough.

“I am sorry, Shepard,” Liara repeated again, feeling as useless as the sentiment appeared.

Shepard covered her face. “He’s going to be so disappointed…”

“I think he will be sad. And worried for you,” Liara said. “You’re not giving him enough credit, I think. He’s been with you since the beginning. While the rest of us was following their own matters, Garrus stayed with you.”

“I know,” Shepard sighed. “Liara, I’m – I’m afraid of telling him. How am I supposed to tell him? How can I crush his hopes, when he’ll be probably struggling with whatever he’s going through right now?”

“I do not know, Shepard,” Liara answered. “What I do know, is that you two are married and whatever problems you have, if you want your marriage to last, then you’ll have to share them and be honest to each other.”

“Oh, Liara…” Shepard cried and pressed a fist against her wet lips. “I wanted it so bad, Liara! I couldn’t wait to have it! I can’t tell Garrus, Liara! _I can’t tell him!”_

Liara squeezed her eyes shut as they started leaking tears. She pressed a wet kiss to her temple.

“I know, Shepard,” she said uselessly, not noticing how tears began flowing down her face, mingling with Shepard’s own. “I wish I could take your pain away…” She gasped as Shepard’s legs buckled and both fell on their knees. “But I’m here Shepard. I’m here.

“You…” She cleared her throat. “You _have_ to tell Garrus.”

Shepard groaned and her body curled like a snail. “Oh God, I can’t tell him.”

“Shepard! You can’t keep this to yourself!” Liara exclaimed louder than she intended. “It’s going to eat you up!”

“I don’t care.”

“Well… I don’t care that you don’t care,” the asari replied and giggled despite the seriousness of the situation.

Shepard chuckled, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “You sound like Miranda. She’s been telling me the same thing ever since it happened.”

Liara broke the embrace and sat herself on her side. “Well, that means that you should listen to us. It’s not every day that Miranda and I agree.”

“You barely know each other,” Shepard pointed out.

“I know. We just never clicked.”

“That’s Miranda for you. Or perhaps you simply approached her the wrong way,” Shepard shrugged. “Did you offer to ‘embrace eternity’ with her?”

Liara rolled her eyes. “You’re never letting this go, right? Tali and Garrus are the same.”

Her friend smiled. “If they don’t stop, then I won’t either.”

“I swear I need new friends. You guys are insufferable.”

“It’s just fun to tease you, Liara. It’s easy to get you all flustered and embarrassed.”

Liara arched a brow. “So I’m the weak link of the group?”

“I don’t have any weak link in my group of friends, Liara please!” Shepard shook her head in mock disappointment.

“Oh I’m sorry. I forgot being friends with you is an _honor.”_

Shepard grinned. “Of course it is.” She nudged her friend with her elbow. “I only want the best in my group.”

Silence spread over them, but this time it was a companionable one. Both women felt lighter than before, but the needed conversation had left them drained. It seemed that, for the moment, everything that to be said, had been said, and now they had nothing else to talk about.

“We’ll arrive tomorrow,” Shepard suddenly said.

Liara looked up. “Already?”

She hummed and nodded. “It’s about time. We’ve lost enough time as it is.”

“Do you regret stopping on Alpria?”

“No. We would’ve had to stop there anyway. But I… I am worried,” Shepard answered. “Miranda’s been looking at the contents of the box and it’s… it worries me.”

Liara frowned. “What’s in that box?”

“Different sizes of muzzles, tweezers, scissors, rulers, books on turian and human anatomy... Human and turian chains, used before our species discovered the mass relays. And there were different samples of medication, drugs to stop bleedings, to stimulate the production of blood cells…”

Her voice faded. The two women looked at each other.

“Doesn’t sound much like a torture chamber,” Liara mumbled.

Shepard flared. “Didn’t you hear what I just said?!”

“I did, Shepard,” Liara snapped. “And I know what the things are pointing at. I know, okay?”

“I’m sorry…”

Liara huffed. “I know. I understand. I’m just as nervous as you are. The thing is we don’t know what to expect when we arrive,” Liara pointed out. “For all we know the krogan might’ve conquered the colony already.”

She shook her head. “If they had, we’d know by now. But that doesn’t mean anything. We still don’t know how bad things are down there….”

“Well, going by what you just mentioned, it’s nothing good, I am sure.”

Shepard deflated, her head hanging low. “I don’t know what to do, Liara,” she confessed. “What if… what are Sakkem and his people _doing?”_

Liara gave her a sad smile and reached out to hug her. “I don’t know what to tell you, Shepard. But we’ve survived the craziest things. What makes you think we won’t survive this?”

Her words got the desired effect; Shepard huffed a laugh. “I guess…”

“You’ll see, Garrus will be alright. Giving them hell.”

“I sure hope so.”

*

They were approaching Rubrum three days later.

Those three nights had given her a much needed reprieve. Coming clean to Liara had to be one of the best decisions she had ever made. She found that she could talk easier than before. There was no need to pretend anymore, for Liara knew. If she was feeling a bit down, she went to her friend and either talked to her or read outrageous news from Liara’s agents. 

Now Shepard was in the cockpit with Joker, watching the tiny planet grow as the distance between them became shorter.

 “It looks so small…” Joker whispered, brows furrowed. “And so lonely.”

“At least it has two moons,” Shepard said with a shrug.

“Hard to believe the future of the galaxy will be decided there…” He paused. “Maybe we should nuke the planet. It’ll be easier than to actually fix the problem.”

Shepard smiled. “Focus on getting us down there safely, Joker.”

He shot her a grin. “Aye, aye, Commander.”

The Normandy leaned forwards slightly as Joker directed her in the direction he wanted. It felt like floating on air. She flew so smoothly, one forgot one was in space. Shepard looked outside. Billions of stars moved past them as they neared the lonely world. She wondered for a moment if those were the same stars Garrus saw, when he looked at the sky. It was late morning now in Prima and the stars had to be asleep. She didn’t dare to wonder what Garrus was doing at the moment. Truthfully, as much as she liked to think he was alright, her intuition told her the opposite.

Her fingers brushed over her stomach in an instinctual move for comfort. It only added to her pain. She wished the mission was already over. She wished she could sit on her desk in her cabin or apartment and write the mission report. But she couldn’t. It was too soon.

Her musings were brought to a sudden end, when the yellow lights of the Normandy flickered and then died completely.

“What-”

The systems restarted again, but the controls were still dark. Joker’s lips were pursed into a thin line as he hectically brushed his fingers over the numerous screens and buttons.

The excitement at approaching the long-waited destination dropped down her stomach like a stone. Joker turned slightly in his chair, a disappointed and flabbergasted look on his face.

“The scanners and controls are acting crazy, Commander. I can’t see anything.”

“I noticed,” she muttered harsher than he deserved. She ran a hand over her face.

“I can still try to land her manually,” he offered. “It’s going to be tricky. The sky is super clouded and -”

“No,” Shepard quieted him firmly. “We’ll take the shuttle.”

“Commander-”

His protests died, when Shepard raised a hand.

“There’s no need to put the entire ship at risk,” she said. “This isn’t the Reaper War. This isn’t like the fight against the Collectors.”

He nodded reluctantly. “What do we do while you’re down there?”

She sighed as she pondered all the options and their consequences. “You’ll go back to Alliance. I talked to Hackett and Victus in the morning and they are both waiting for the signal to be restored, before they prepare for the next move.”

“So once the signal is up again we’ll go to war?”

She shook her head. “Victus is counting on it. He has the whole turian fleet on a hold. Hackett is still… hesitating. He wants to wait until we know more before he picks a side.”

“What side do you think he’ll pick?” he asked carefully.

She released a breath through her teeth. “Honestly, I’m not discarding the Alliance to stay out of it.”

“Well, but… he has to know this thing won’t turn out well, right? I mean, all the facts point out to the krogan taking prisoners and I doubt they’re treated nicely.”

She nodded. “Leave the worrying to me. I need you to be prepared to head out and lead the fleet in case Hackett does decide to go to war. I’m not saying it will come to that, but in case the worst case scenario comes true. I’ll get in touch with you as soon as the com signal is working again.”

“Do we fly to Rubrum then? Or do we wait for Hackett to give the order?”

Shepard hesitated. “Be ready either way. So far we know little to nothing about what’s going on down there. There’s no point talking about it now, when it’s all assumptions.”

It was his turn to nod. “Yes, Commander.”

“I’ll go tell the others,” Shepard said, already turning to leave the cockpit.

Solana was furiously typing on the screens before her.

“I’m trying to re-establish the signal,” she explained through gritted teeth, when she noticed Shepard approaching her.

The human waved a hand. “Don’t bother with that. We’re taking the shuttle to Rubrum.”

A surprised hum vibrated through Sol’s throat. “What?”

“You’re going with me,” she said, grabbing her by the arm and leading her to the elevators. “Take everything you might need. I feel this is going to be a bumpy ride.”

Solana nodded and followed, and was forced to an abrupt halt, when Liara came rushing out of the elevator.

“Shepard! The signal is-”

“I know,” Shepard said with her hands raised placating. “Go back and get ready. We’re taking the shuttle.”

Her big eyes widened even more. “The shuttle? But we can’t see-”

She had no time to finish as the ship tilted violently to the side, throwing everyone on the Normandy off balance.

Joker’s voice surged loud and scared through the intercom. “ _Commander! We’re being attacked!”_

“What?!”

 _“The satellite has been restarted,”_ he explained, grunting as he evaded another hit. _“It’s aiming at us!”_

The crew members in the Communications Room looked at Shepard. Their eyes held all the concern they didn’t dare voice.

“We can’t land”, Shepard whispered more to herself than the others. She shook herself. She pressed a button. “Cortez?”

_“What happened, Commander?”_

“We can’t land the Normandy!” she shouted. “We’ll have to take the shuttle! Can you bring us down there?”

There was a significantly long pause. And then-

_“Yes.”_

Shepard released a breath and announced through the intercom: “Crew members, who are not assigned to field work will stay here. Every other soldier is expected on the shuttle in ten minutes!”

Things after that went in a rush. There was shouting everywhere. The Normandy buckled up and down like a roaring ox. The lights flickered, making eyes ache. Soon, Shepard waved her team members into the shuttle, yelling in encouragement as they stumbled forward.

“Joker! Open up the airlock!” she shouted through the comm. She looked around, checking if really everyone was present.

_“Good luck, Shepard!”_

“You too, Joker!”

The doors shut as the Normandy prepared to open up to space. Shepard took a controlled breath as they departed and entered the vastness of space’s void. There were fight stations scattered around the planet, staying still and watching while Rubrum rotated in blissful ignorance. The fight stations were relentlessly shooting at the Normandy. Her shields were in a constant glow as they blocked the attacks. Cortez led the shuttle away from the mother ship, and flew in between stations. Shepard looked back as they distanced themselves further and further. The Normandy prepared to leave. She began to turn, all the while reciprocating and eliminating her enemies. Jane felt more than heard the sound of the mass relay as the Normandy entered light speed. She disappeared from one moment to the other.

The shuttle gave a brutal jump as they entered Rubrum’s atmosphere. Their sight was covered by a thick curtain of grey clouds, but they swept aside the lower the ship moved. The team released a relieved breath. They were safe for the time being.

Shepard, restless as she was, stood up and approached Cortez. His hands were tight on the controls.

“What is it?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

“The controls are acting crazy!” he whispered. He kept his gaze fixated on the skies. “It’s making it hard to see where exactly we’re going. There’s no way of knowing what is waiting for us.”

The commander bit her lip and gave a short nod. She patted his shoulder, then turned to speak to her team.

Shepard is standing, holding herself from a bar as the shuttle jumps over the turbulences.

“Listen up!” she yelled and everybody looked up.

Some of their eyes held worry and the fear expected before every mission, but none of them distrusted her. Their trust, their loyalty stole her breath. She felt undeserving of it and the pressure to prove herself worthy of them.

She pointed at the ground far away from them. “We don’t know what’s waiting for us down there,” she started. “It’s been a month since the contact was lost with Rubrum, that’s enough time to change everything. So don’t count on the reports being up-to-date.

“Our priority is to get to Prima as soon as possible. I would like that to happen without anyone noticing, but who are we kidding?” She shrugged with a light shake of her head, a mirthless smile tugging on her lips. “From what little information we’ve been able to gather, the com tower is in Sakkem’s hands, meaning every message, every signal that is sent from here or to this place, will inevitably go through them.”

“Are we sure that Prima hasn’t been conquered in the meanwhile?” James asked from the back. “I mean… it’s been a month and according to the reports the krogan have been growing in numbers…”

Solana twisted her head back to look at him. Her mandibles twitched irritated. “If the krogan have Prima, then they have the planet. And if they had the planet we would know, don’t you think?”

“Hey, I was just sayin’-”

Shepard cleared her throat and the two fell quickly silent.

“Anyway... _No,_ James. I really doubt the krogan have conquered the capital. It took them over a year to conquer Satah and… and Ilva. I suspect that battle took a lot of their fire power.” She shook her head. “I think they spent the month recovering, just like the turians.”

“So, what’s the plan, Commander?” inquired Miranda.

Shepard grinned. “Get down as near as possible to Prima, step out, talk to the Primarch, save Garrus and get rid of Sakkem.”

Vega chuckled. “Sounds easy enough.”

“It’s not that different from what we’ve done before, right?” Liara quipped.

Shepard raised her free hand. “But listen, don’t expect the turians to be friendly-”

“When are they?” murmured Maelon to Vega, who smirked at the serious turian glaring at him.

“- they’ll probably think we’re from the Council, and from what I got the impression that they’re not very happy with them right now.”

Solana raised a hand. “So, what you’re saying is to not mention the Council?”

“I’m saying don’t lose your nerves when they point their guns at us,” Shepard replied. “It’s nothing new – a bit predictable, if you ask me – but as long as we don’t end up shooting them, it’s okay.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Killing them, when we want to help them won’t leave a good impression,” Vega said.

“Commander?” Cortez called from the cockpit.

The tension in his voice made Shepard look up and walk over to him.

“What is it?” she asked.

Steven had a deep frown on his face. “I- the scanners caught incoming drones.”

Shepard’s eyes widened. “I thought they weren’t working!”

“Yeah! But only for moments!”

 She jumped back from the cockpit immediately. She threw herself on her seat and fastened the belts on her body.

”Hold on!” she shouted. “We’re being attacked!”

“Already?” Miranda cried out annoyed, as she put her bag on her lap.

The shuttle leaned dangerously to the side, almost toppling over, as it evaded a drone. The heat of the explosion blew through the door.

“Shit!” Shepard wiped the sweat from her face. She unfastened her seat belt and stumbled over to Cortez. “Cortez!” she shouted.

“What?” he snapped.

“Get out the machine gun. I’ll give you cover.”

He looked close to objecting, but obeyed anyway. “Good luck!”

The shuttle rattled in the air, moaning under the assault of the drones. One managed to hit something that made the ship groan and the lights die. The door opened. The shuttle flew past gold and emerald seas of grass. They made out the snail-like shape of the largest river in Rubrum – the Water Devil, or something, the turians called it.

But Shepard had little time to admire the view. Dozens of drones zipped around them, shooting at them tirelessly.

“Hold on!” Shepard yelled and began to shoot back. Her teeth were gritted, red strands of hair slapped her face and her palms were sweaty, but her grip on the gun was tight. She pulled the trigger more times than she hit the target. The drones were small and very quick. They moved like ants or flies, but even they were not immortal. One by one they were destroyed, leaving a trail of dark smoke on their way down.

A drone got too close, almost entered the shuttle. It shot manically, just as Liara and Miranda flared blue and shielded them from the assault. It was not too soon. The drone hit James in the shoulder, before Maelon destroyed it.

Shepard released a victorious shout as the last drone exploded.

“Yeah! That was the last one! Hurry up, Cortez!”

Steve Cortez obeyed. The next half hour was treasured precisely for the peaceful ride. The shuttle, however, had taken a lot of damage. The landing could have been deadly if not for Cortez’ skills, but his talents aside, the ship was no longer fit to fly. She smoked like a chimney as the crew jumped out, Liara and Miranda helping the injured James out. He was pale and a thin sheen of sweat clung to his skin.

Stepping further away from the steaming shuttle, Shepard looked around. Grassland as far as the eye could see, but just there at the horizon, where a bit of blue fought against the grey clouds, she could make out a chain of threes. Jane looked up. As grey as the clouds were, some of the sun’s golden rays shined through them. As if a painter had brushed golden dust over the canvas of grey.

Shepard released a deep sigh. The air was hot and ashen due to the shuttle, but else its taste was fresh like spring, and pure like glacier water.

“We’re here,” she sighed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter in comparison to the previous and coming chapters.

 

“Here,” Shepard said and handed James Vega a water bottle. “You need to stay hydrated. Who knows how long we’ll be stranded here.”

“A bath would be nice too,” he said and drunk almost the entire bottle in one go.

She turned to Maelon, who had been on Rubrum before. “Where are we?”

Maelon took his time to get in his surroundings. “Not in Prima.”

“Great answer, smart ass,” Vega snapped.

“Never been here before, Shepard,” Maelon continued, unfazed. “But landscape is familiar. Grasslands mostly. Just like in Satah.”

Shepard was not happy. Vega’s injured shoulder worried her. They were stranded in an unfamiliar, hostile world. Their scanners were protesting, they had no way to communicate with the outside worlds or to get in touch with Rubrum’s Primarch.

In summary, they were royally screwed. But at least Shepard had enjoyed a good night’s sleep.

“So, what now?” James asked, grunting when he accidentally put pressure on his injured shoulder. “’Big eye’ here has no idea where we are _and_ communications is down.”

“Don’t forget your shoulder,” Miranda pointed out, kneeling before him and pressing a wet cloth on the injury. He hissed. “If we’re attacked, you’ll be a liability.”

“Thank you," he muttered wryly. "Lola?”

Shepard, who’d been watching their surroundings, nodded slowly. She followed the trail of smoke steaming from the shuttle.

“We can’t stay here for long,” she said. “The smoke will attract somebody sometime and I’d hate to cross fire with anyone, when we’re so unprotected.”

“Commander, may I make a suggestion?” Maelon asked.

Shepard shrugged. “Shoot.”

“It’s close to midday. The sun shines from the south. Prima is in the west. To face the dawn, so the turians say. We have to go that way,” he said, pointing at the brush of green in the distance.

Shepard’s face lit up and, facial scars aside, she looked a decade younger. “That’s great!” she cried out with a laugh and reached out to clasp his shoulder. “Thank you! By the way, do you happen to know far Prima is?”

“Forest is on the horizon, barely recognizable,” he said, pointing at the pale forest chain before them. “Maybe… 20, 30 kilometers?”

James groaned. No one looked very happy. Shepard looked at the forest. It seemed to tease them with the distance. The sun fought her way through the cluster of thick clouds. The wind turned into a teasing breeze.

She bit back a sigh and ran a hand through her hair, brushing away the freed strands. “We’ll have to walk,” she called out and then turning to James, she asked, “Can you walk?”

He hesitated. “I can’t run.”

“Okay. You try, but tell me when it’s too much, understood?”

He nodded, his hand still clutching his shoulder. “Aye, Commander.”

*

For a group that had just survived a crash-landing they advanced quickly. And yet the distance didn't seem to become shorter, but longer. They must have walked for an hour, when Shepard began thinking about calling a break.

“Shepard…”

Solana’s dual voice made her look back and beyond. Her blood turned cold. She saw them too.

“Get down!” she hissed, throwing herself onto the ground. It was impressing how quickly the team obeyed.

“Did they see us?” Liara whispered.

“Possibly.”

Who was she kidding? Seven people marching through grassland with no tree or rock in sight… of course the people in the tank had seen them!

Squinting her eyes and leaning on her elbows and lower arms, Shepard checked how far away they were from the forest. She pressed her lips together. Too far to make a run for it.

“Okay people! We’ll have to crawl!”

Every head turned to her. _“What?”_

“You heard me! James, can you make it?”

James had lean his forehead on the ground. He was shivering and grey. 

“I’ll try,” he said weakly.

They had not advanced for five minutes, when they had to stop again. Shepard sighed. James was way behind them, struggling to move forward and stifling his cries, when he accidentally put pressure on his injured shoulder. What a nasty place to get hurt, Shepard thought.

“This won’t do,” Miranda whispered into her ear.

Shepard bit her lip and allowed herself one minute to think things through.

“Cortez, give Solana the rope,” she said finally.

Steve, although surprised, did as he was told.

“Good. Sol, take off your undershirt.”

Solana’s mandibles fell slack, but she too did as she was told. It took a bit of maneuvering – taking off the chest armor proved to be a more difficult task than putting it on.

“Good, now… go back to James and bind the rope around him. Then wrap the other end around you like a backpack, okay?”

Solana rolled on her side, then moved so that she was facing the injured man. Her long legs flexed and stretched as she covered the distance in a few short minutes. James tried to meet her halfway, but just one attempt and he collapsed breathlessly.

He gasped. “I swear… this has never happened to me before.”

“There’s always a first,” Miranda said helpfully.

Solana had by now successfully tied James to her, and was now waiting for further orders.

“Your undershirt… spread it out like a blanket – yes, like that.” Shepard released a deep breath, forcing herself not to look at the approaching tank in the distance. She hesitated. “James, can you crawl on it and lie on your back?”

“I’ve got little choice, do I?”

With enormous effort and under a lot of pain, James began the exhausting journey of crawling onto Solana’s black shirt. Thank God, turians were so tall; the shirt reached his upper thighs.

Shepard, after checking that James was indeed still alive, turned to the waiting turian. “You okay?”

Sol shrugged. “The armor is a bit uncomfortable, but I’ll manage.”

“And you know what you have to do?”

“Sure. I’ll drag the lightweight with me,” Solana said almost cheerfully.

“I’m a fully grown man, Vakarian!” Vega snapped.

“Oh, yeah? And how much do you weigh?” she asked.

“Wh- What kind of question is that?” he spluttered.

“A normal one, I guess.”

“Are you small for a turian female?” he asked with a sneer. “Because most turians I’ve seen are taller than you!”

She rolled her eyes and was about to snap something back, when Shepard hissed at them to be silent.

“Vega, quiet! Solana, move!” she growled and began to lead the march to the forest.

They moved. Crawled until their elbows hurt and their arms shook. Breathing was difficult for the armor dug into their chests. The wind gained strength, but so did the sun, and soon the humidity began to take its toll on them.

Shepard looked back several times; both to check on Solana’s progress and the advancing tank. Solana was doing great considering she had to drag a fully grown and very fit man with her. James, on the other hand, was not doing well. Each pull heaved a pained grunt from him. He didn’t complain, but Shepard knew they couldn’t keep this up for too long.

Another thing that had her worried, made her heart plummeted into her stomach was the advancing tank. Each time she looked back it seemed to have gotten closer. As always, she put on a brave face. She was determined to keep her team alive.

Maelon was the first to drop flat.

“Can- can’t… anymore…” he panted, each breath he took painful. Liara took his words as encouragement to take a break.

“How far are we yet?” she asked.

“Still too far,” Maelon answered.

“You guys are unbelievable!” Miranda hissed through her perfect teeth. Unlike her team mates she didn’t stop dragging herself forward. “We are being hunted – we’ll probably die – and you just lie down!”

“There’s no point,” Maelon replied, looking back. “They’re catching up.”

He was right, unfortunately. They could make a run for it now and still wouldn’t make it into the forest.

“What do we do, Shepard?” Liara asked.

She looked around, but there still wasn’t anything that could give them cover in case of a violent confrontation. She shook her head, breath hurried from exertion.

“There’s no point,” she said. “We won’t make it. Solana, stop.”

Solana, who had passed them by now, stopped and looked back.

“Untie yourself from Vega. Vega, stay down,” Shepard ordered.

James nodded. He stayed still, while the turian untied the rope.

Shepard took a deep breath. “We’ll meet them here,” she decided.

“That does not sound good,” Maelon sighed.

*

Too soon the tank stopped to a halt within a short distance. The door opened and a long helmet peeked out. Two three fingered hands reached up and removed it and stared down Shepard.

The turian jumped out of the tank, followed by an asari and another turian. They walked up to her in quick steps.

“Who are you?” asked the leading turian. His green eyes looked them up and down, staying longer on Solana and the injured James. He then fixed his gaze back on Shepard.

“I’m Commander Shepard and-”

His mandibles fell slack as a sound of disbelief rumbled from his throat. “Commander Shepard?”

She nodded, a wide grin splitting her lips. “Boy, we really thought we were in trouble.”

“Oh, that can still happen with the krogan roaming around,” the turian said flippantly. He looked her up and down again, this time his eyes staying longer on her waist and shoulders, before standing straight again. “My name is Titus. I must say, it’s not every day a bored turian finds the hero of the galaxy in his patrol.”

“Oh, you were patrolling? Are you from Prima?”

Titus shook his head. The black colony markings on his mandibles looked like polished rock on his light plates.

“We’re from Satah,” he replied.

“Satah?” Maelon stepped forward. “I thought the krogan-”

“We drove them out two months ago,” the asari behind the turian said.

“Yeah, was a big deal,” the turian said. “We’ve been close to losing it ever since Salva fell.”

Shepard frowned. “Salva? That’s where the com tower is, right?”

He nodded slowly. “We don’t know what happened. I think it was an explosion, but no one has made it out from Salva since the krogan took over.”

Her stomach twisted. “Are you sure?”

“I am, Commander.”

She didn’t trust her voice, but waved at James. “One of my men is injured,” she said. “Do you have anything-?”

The asari walked toward him and knelt. She immediately began to tug his shirt.

“When was he injured?” she asked.

“An hour ago, tops,” Shepard answered.

The asari nodded. “What’s his name?”

“James Vega.”

“Okay. James, my name is Priama. I’m here to help you, alright?”

He nodded. His face was sweat and pale, his eyes bloodshot.

Priama managed to take off his shirt. The wound had crusted, but the skin around it was a dark grey. Her purple lips thinned. She looked up at the turian male.

“Salarian tech,” she said. 

Titus gave a curt nod. The asari meanwhile took out a rounded blade. From a pocket she fished a small container and continued to wet the blade with its fluid contents. It left a putrid smell.

“This is going to hurt,” she warned James. “Does anyone have anything to bite on?”

Miranda threw her glove.

“Oh, fuck…” James muttered as Priama stuffed his mouth with the fabric. She grasped the blade and took a deep breath.

“Here we go,” she said and leaned in.

The round edge of the blade dug under the crusted layer. James’ breathless whimper was muffled and Liara and Solana grasped his hands and legs to keep him still. Priama’s lips were spread into a thin line, her eyes narrowed as she focused on getting the crust off his skin. It was probably one of Shepard’s longest minute of her life, and by the time they were stepping into the third minute Priama had not even removed half of it. James released a muffled cry and from underneath the uncovered layer dark fluid began to dripple out.

“Shit,” the asari muttered.

“What is it?” Shepard asked.

Priama laughed breathlessly. “The bullet is still inside him,” she said.

Shepard shook her head. “I don’t understand…”

“The salarians don’t use thermal clips,” she explained patiently. She wiped the orange fluid from James’ sweat-sheened skin. “They used bullets made from Rubrum’s mines.”

“We found a metal a few years ago. It’s very strong if it’s worked correctly, but its melting temperature is low enough to be easily malleable,” Titus continued. “We’ve built Salva’s outer walls with it. And most of Prima is made of it. It was only a matter of time until the salarians found other ways to use it.”

“Anyway, usually the shots go right through, but sometimes the bullets gets stuck inside the body – especially in species that are so well built as he is,” Priama finished, patting James’ abs appreciatively. “He needs medical treatment in a med bay or in a hospital. I suggest you take him to Prima. The field is not the right place to get it out.”

“We can take you there,” Titus said and walked over to James. “I can carry him if you want.”

Shepard gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

His laughter thrummed with his subvocals. “Oh, believe me, I will remind you of that.”

*

The journey was uneventful, but two hours long and James stirred from unconsciousness several times. Seeing the outer walls of Prima send shivers of relief down Shepard’s back, and for the first time since they arrived, felt herself relax against her seat.

Prima was a mosaic amidst grassland and old rock. Built in a crater it rose to the firmament like an oak tree. Titus had mentioned before how the capital city had been built from stone and metal from the mountains, but he had failed to mention their color. It was of a dirty white – and when the sun hit the even walls of this steadfast city, they glowed pink like a pearl.

It was definitely a turian city; built to be strong rather than beautiful. It was impressive in its sturdiness, but lacked aesthetic appeal.

“It will please you to hear that the Primarch hired a human architect to design Prima,” Titus said politely, but Shepard got the feeling that he was not too happy about this.

She studied the walls closely, while they waited for the gates to open. And once they passed the gates, Shepard found that perhaps the play of changing colors was enough to please the eye.

“Is it too evident? That a human designed it, I mean.”

Titus shrugged. “The play of the colors is nice, although pink is not really my color, and I wonder how much of that was actually planned. We didn’t know the metal and stone did that, you know?” His mandibles twitched – a turian grimace. “It’s just… a bit too decorated for me. But that’s just me of course.”

“I see what you mean,” Solana said, craning her neck to get a better view of the passing buildings. “Something about the balconies and entrances… it’s not turian.”

“I think it looks beautiful,” Liara interjected.

“Do you know the Primarch?” Shepard asked suddenly.

“Only his reputation,” said Titus, casting a sly glance at his asari partner.

Shepard’s brows shot up to her hairline. “What does _that_ mean?”

Titus sighed, scratching his neck. “It’s not that,” he replied weakly. “He’s a great leader. We wouldn’t be here without him, but…”

“His ideas are unconventional. He includes asari and humans in politics. Not military, turians are not ready for that yet,” Priama cut in with a hint of annoyance. “Oh! And he has probably the biggest asari fetish ever.”

“Oh…” Shepard said, brows furrowing as she glanced sideways at Liara.

“His bodyguards are all asari,” Titus explained. “It… well, it makes us a bit nervous.”

Priama scowled. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

Titus released a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

“No! I want to hear what you have to say. Tell me-”

“ _Thank God,_ we’re here,” Miranda exclaimed as the tank stopped before the heavily guarded city hall. She was the first to jump out of the vehicle.

Shepard looked at Titus. “Could you drive him to the hospital while I talk to the Primarch?”

He tilted his head. “Sure. It’s on the way out.”

She nodded. “Thank you. Really. You saved our lives.”

He gave her a turian grin. “You’re welcome,” he said, giving the city hall a quick look. “I hope you’ll find your answers, Commander. My team and I will return to Satah. If it’s meant to be then we’ll see each other again.”

They shook hands. “Good luck to you, Titus. And have a save journey.”

He rumbled a laugh. “Oh, it’s not the journey I’m worried about!”

They went separate ways. Titus stepped back into the tank, a large part of Shepard's team following behind. He drove off in the direction of the hospital, while Shepard, Liara and Solana stayed behind.

It turned out, entering the city hall took longer than waiting for permission to pass through Prima’s gate. The government’s building had to be more guarded than the outer walls of the city. Shepard found she was more worried in the city hall, than when her team had been stranded in the middle of nowhere. Adding to that, Jane almost caused an incident when she refused to give up her weapons. Only when she identified herself did they allow her to enter fully armed.

They were led into a waiting room, where they stayed for approximately half an hour before a well-dressed, dark blue asari walked in.

“Commander Shepard, the Primarch is now available,” the asari announced.

“How generous of him,” Shepard scoffed with a polite smile.

The asari quietly escorted them to the turian’s office. It was in the second-to-last floor; Shepard observed that the last one was especially reserved for the sniper guard, and the Primarch had at least 3 possible emergency exits and plenty of room to take cover in the case of an attack. She wondered how likely that was. There were two other asari positioned in front of the Primarch’s door, and it opened with a silent swiftness as the guards let the newcomers pass.

The turian waiting for them was facing the bullet proof window, stained such as it would not blind.

“Sir, the commander is here as you requested,” the asari said.

“Thank you, Alina,” the turian said and turned with a confident, but not unfriendly smirk. His dark eyes immediately met Shepard’s.

“Welcome to Prima, Commander Shepard.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

If Shepard had harboured any doubts to whether or not she really was attracted to turians, meeting Primarch Latus dispelled all these doubts.

The first thing she noticed about him was his size. He was at least a head taller than Garrus. His plates were dark and smooth like volcanic rock, and his eyes were just as dark and compelling. His clan markings had to be the least ‘attractive’ feature, for they were neither of a noble family, nor from an important city; they were moss green and lacked the elegant lines Solana and Garrus’ facial markings had. His most distinguishing feature, however – and it drove even the unflappable Shepard almost to her knees - was without a doubt his voice. It was warm like dark chocolate molten in gentle heat, and then mixed with smooth cream; it flowed like silk.

If Primarch Latus noticed the reaction his presence provoked from the three females, he didn’t show it. He walked around his large glass desk to grasp Shepard’s hand.

“It is an honor to finally meet you, Commander,” he said. “I have heard many things about you. I am looking forward to working with you personally.” He gave her a knowing smile. “I trust the sources were fair.”

Shepard’s body had tensed like a bowstring, and to her dismay she felt her skin heat up. She prayed her face didn’t show the blush.

Primarch Latus returned to his desk and offered them a seat.

“Alina, could you please bring another chair? I would hate for a guest to be left standing after the long journey.”

Alina, the asari who had escorted them to his office, bowed her head and turned with a noticeable swing of her hips. Latus’ eyes stayed on her until the door closed, then strayed from Solana to Liara. He gave her a once over, then returned to the female turian.

“You must be Garrus’ sister,” he said kindly.

Solana tensed. “I am,” she said with utmost control in her trembling subharmonics.

“I have to say, based on how your brother talked about you, I expected to see your mother, but you resemble Talus more.”

“You know my father?”

“I met him many years ago, which is not the same as – _ah!”_ He stood up when Alina returned with a chair. He pointed at Liara and said, “If you’d be so kind – thank you.”

His attention returned to Shepard, but _she_ didn’t miss how his eyes glanced back to the now seated asari. She also noticed how Alina pushed Liara harshly into the chair.

“But returning to the topic at hand…” He sobered, folding his hands on the desk. He gave Shepard his full attention. Shepard instinctively reached for Solana’s hand. A shudder ran down her spine as she mentally prepared for the worst.

“I am sorry to inform you that your husband, Commander, and your brother, Solana, was captured by the krogan and we have no way of knowing if he is alive.”

Shepard and Solana exhaled slowly. Jane ducked her head as she tried to calm down. All in her screamed. She was trembling inwardly and she pressed her teeth together to keep them from clattering. She had known… everything she’d heard had pointed to this. But hearing it from a direct source was… it was terrible. She exhaled slowly as she fought to stay calm.

“I… I thought so,” she rasped, clearing her throat. “When… when was he captured? I heard there was an attempt to secure the com tower…”

He nodded slowly. “A month ago Garrus and I met to discuss the situation. We’d just reconquered Satah, but the krogan focused their wrath on Salva, the city surrounding the com tower. We knew that, in order to getting rid of the krogan problem, we’d have to – one, secure the com tower in Salva, and second, remove the source of problem, which is Sakkem.”

Latus released slowly a breath, but his subvocals trembled. “Now, Sakkem never leaves Rankun, the main krogan settlement. And we’re not _that_ desperate to even think about attacking them there. We decided then to secure the com tower by blocking the direct access to Salva. The krogan, every time they attacked, they came with tanks. So we thought if we block the road, they will stay out. Simple.”

“But it didn’t work,” Shepard said.

Latus bowed his head. “No.”

He stood up then and led them over to the blinking military map. He touched the dark screen and it reacted instantly, revealing the colony’s map. Latus tapped on a red spot, zoomed in on a large, circular city with the com tower in the very center.

“What did your husband tell you last time you talked?” he asked politely.

“Just that it was an important mission and… and that it might be a few days, before he’d get in touch with me,” Jane answered and cleared her throat to get rid of the lump. “The rest I guessed and Victus filled me in later.”

Latus nodded. “We wanted to block all the entrances to the com tower, which meant also destroying all paths to and from the main road,” he began slowly “We figured it’d be best – the lesser of two evils – if the two city blocks facing the krogan’s settlement were blocked, destroyed, it would be harder for the krogan tanks to pass through. They’d would have to pass in smaller shuttles or on foot, and our snipers, patrols and missiles could have removed all approaching threats…”

Shepard waited when the turian’s pleasant voice faded; but time was too short to be patient.

“What went wrong?”

“We don’t _know!_ ” he said, a frustrated snarl thrumming in his subvocals. He touched on four different points – the main gates separating each block from each other and through which the main road went. “We installed bombs in each gate, each connected to several critical points within the rings,” he continued. “While the troops were busy evacuating the first and second ring, the others were setting up the bombs. These two rings were supposed to be left completely empty and destroyed… evened out, you could say.”

“To have a complete overview of the place?”

He bowed his head slightly. “Cities can be rebuilt. A culture cannot.”

Latus returned to his desk, Shepard and her team following him quietly.

“What did the evacuated citizens say? Weren’t they witnesses or did the disaster happen, when they were gone?” she asked as she sat down.

Latus rubbed his eyes and released a deep, tired sigh, letting Shepard know more than he perhaps intended.

“Do you know how many citizens Salva had?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Well, Salva was the second largest and most populated city after Prima. For Rubrum’s standards she was quite big. And very beautiful, before the war began taking its toll on her…” He sighed again. “Anyway, there were about a four thousand citizens in Salva during the mission. Less than _half_ of them were evacuated in time. All evacuated said more or less the same thing: the troops set off the bombs too early. The krogan were unstoppable and were everywhere, and just as the ships were leaving Salva, the com tower exploded.”

“How many stayed behind?” Shepard whispered.

“Not counting the soldiers, who stayed behind as they were ordered to? Almost twenty-five hundred people.”

Shepard and her friends winced. 

“The troops were ordered to give the evacuating ships enough time to leave and then – had everything gone right – they would have secured Salva and stayed to protect the com tower.”

Shepard’s lips twisted bitterly. “I guess none of those things actually happened.”

Latus’ mandibles twisted. “No…” he whispered and shook his head. “Any attempts to reconquer Salva have failed, Commander. Sakkem has the com tower and therefore controls all communication and satellites. Prima has been spared so far, but Satah has been under krogan attack very often lately and don’t even get me started on what’s happening in the science facility.”

His mandibles flared and tightened as he took deep breath to calm himself. “It is only a matter of time, before they attack Prima. And I’m afraid we won’t have the means to fight back victoriously by then.”

He shrugged, mandibles shifting with bitterness. “It’s been hard to… keep up the morale.”

“Looks like you’ve been doing a good job, though,” Shepard said. “You’re still standing.”

He smiled, his eyes watching hers intently. “This means a lot coming from you, Commander.” His subharmonics released a low thrum. “I heard great things from you and your team. And I am expecting equally great things from you.”

Liara crossed her legs and straightened her back. Shepard had to bite her lip to keep her laughter at bay and she kicked the asari’s foot when her friend puffed out her chest.

“I am looking forward to the action, Primarch,” Shepard said. “Is there anything I could do for you now?”

He gave her another blinding smile and leaned back. “Garrus was right about you. Always straight to the point.…” He cleared his throat and refocused. “There is something we need from a factory we were forced to give up a year ago. It’s completely abandoned obviously. Alina has handed me the reports of the patrols in that area. They all say the krogan have not settled there.”

“ _Yet,”_ Shepard added.

“Yes. Not yet,” he agreed with a slow nod. “There were unfinished projects left behind, containers full of resources the factory worked with…”

“Uh-huh, and what exactly did the factory produce, Primarch?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Latus’ dark eyes focused briefly on how her neck strained. “Just weapons and armor.”

She chuckled. “Sure, ‘just’ weapons and armor.”

Latus’ answering chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn’t an unpleasant one.

“You know these deals too well by now, do you Commander?”

Shepard felt both Solana and Liara shift in their seats at the silky feel of his soothing voice. She grinned back at him.

“I do, unfortunately,” she sighed. “What resources do you need?”

“If the reports from the survivors are correct, then there was a container with metal from the mines. We used it to build our walls and many of our buildings,” he explained, nodding at the walls around him. “The salarians, however, have found another use. They build special bullets with it. If they stay in the body, it gets infected and it doesn’t matter where the person was shot, they will die.”

Shepard nodded grimly. “I know. One of my men was shot. He was brought to the hospital as fast as possible.”

“So you understand why I’m asking you to bring that to Prima?”

“I do.”

“When will you be heading out? The earlier you leave the better. It’s a long way to the factory… three hours to be exact and you don’t know what will expect you on your way…”

“I will leave as soon as everyone in my team has sufficiently recovered from our journey,” Shepard replied. “Until then, do you mind if I had a look around? Garrus told me a lot about Prima and I’m curious to see if he was right.”

Latus stood up after her, his answering smile signalling the end of this meeting. “Of course, Commander,” he said. “You can take your husband’s room. It’s empty and no one has entered since. If you don’t mind, I can call the administrator and tell him to send up someone to clean up.”

“And my crew?”

“If you tell me how many they are then I’ll gladly order my assistant to reserve rooms for them in the barracks,” Latus answered.

Shepard smiled and turned to leave. “Thank you, Primarch. It has been… a pleasure.”

His chuckle was deep as he reached out to shake hands with the human legend and his grip was warm and strong. He shook hands with Solana, but his hand lingered longer on Liara than with anyone else, who blushed when her eyes met his warm gaze.

“So… our Primarch has a fetish for asari, huh?” Shepard drawled after Alina closed the door to the turian’s office.

Solana barked out a laugh, twisting her body as it shook with every laugh.

“Oh, shut up!” Liara yelled, her face purple and her lips pressed thin as she tried to keep her embarrassment at bay.

*

Shepard spent most of the night planning and reading through endless files, before she forced herself to turn the lights off and sleep. She slept very little; four hours, and yet the next morning she felt more awake than when she slept her usual seven. She had just washed and dressed herself, when a knock on the door caught her attention.

“I hope I’m not interrupting you, Commander Shepard,” Alina said, peeking in with a friendly smile. “May I come in? It’s about the mission.”

When Shepard gave a nod in permission, the asari entered and let the door fall shut behind her. She was pretty, Shepard observed, like a fairy one would see in a feverish dream. She didn’t exert the same ruthless power like Aria T’Loak or the serenity and restrained strength Samara had. Alina walked somewhere in between, and she walked that line well, Shepard found. She walked with confidence, without hurry. No movement was wasted. Everything she did had a purpose.

Shepard gestured at the nearest chair, and the asari sat down, putting a datapad on her lap.

“I brought all the intel we have on the factory,” she started.

Shepard nodded slowly, giving the other the incentive to continue.

She handed the datapad over to the human. “There’s the ground plan of the building. The rooms and their functions are listed on a separate document. They are useful, but not very trustworthy.”

Shepard’s brows had furrowed as she read through the data. “When was the last patrol?”

“The last patrol that returned, was a month ago.”

She lowered the datapad, eyebrows arched into an incredulous expression. “And when was the _last_ patrol?”

“Two weeks before you arrived, Commander,” Alina replied dutifully and gave her a thin smile. “What can you do? We’re at war. Not everyone will return.”

Ignoring the simple fact the asari had just thrown at her, Shepard turned to the next document on the datapad.

“And when was the compound abandoned?” she asked after a short, contemplative silence.

“About a year ago. As far as we know it’s still abandoned.”

Shepard pursed her lips. “That can’t be or else the last patrol would’ve made it back – or some of the people at least.”

Alina’s full lips tugged depreciatory. “It is a long way to the factory, Commander. A lot can happen during that journey,” she said.

“Yes, but you forget a lot can change in a month – not to mention a year!” Shepard countered firmly. “Who is to say the krogan haven’t built a new settlement there by now?”

Alina’s gaze darkened slightly, but gave a low bow with her head, “You have a point, Commander.”

“It’d be so much easier if he had the satellites back in our control,” Shepard sighed. “Plans never turn out the way you want them to, but I hate going to a mission blind.”

“Are you planning on retaking Salva next?” the asari asked.

Shepard huffed a laugh, but kept the answer to herself. Truth was she didn’t know.

Alina seemed to feel her reluctance and, courteous as she was, stood up to leave. She gave another bow and said, “If you have any further inquiries, please call into my office. I can’t promise into my office. I can’t promise I’ll be the one picking up, but some of my assistants will surely help you.”

Shepard quirked a smile. “Latus is keeping you busy?”

Alina side-eyed her, clearly gauging in what way this question was meant to be received.

“Yes,” she answered slowly. “There’s so much to do in so little time. I can barely keep up with all the new information.”

Shepard stood up as well and followed her to the door. “He must have great trust in you if he places so much responsibility on you,” she said.

Alina smiled, pleased, and stepped quietly out of Shepard’s quarters. When the door fell shut, the deep silence that followed, almost made Shepard believe she’d been alone all along.

*

“I see you’re up on your feet again,” Shepard said with a crooked grin.

James turned, surprised, but he grinned as well. “What can I say? I’m hard to kill, Lola,” he said with a light shrug. “Is there something I can do for you, Commander?”

Her smile stiffened as she regarded him. “How is your shoulder?”

He rolled his shoulder. No grimace twisted his face in pain. “Still a bit sore. As if I had teared a muscle, you know? But I’m ready to report for duty if that’s what you want to know.”

Shepard nodded slowly. “That's good, because we have a mission,” she said.

His brows arched. “Already?” He crossed his arms. “What’s it about?”

“We have to pick something up,” Shepard answered vaguely and tilted her head to the side as she observed her two team mates practice. True to his word, James Vega was alright. His hand was steady when he fired and he hit all the dummies in very strategic places. While he and Solana practiced, Shepard took the chance to update him on the information from Alina’s reports.

“And you’re sure the place is abandoned?” James asked.

“No,” Shepard replied frankly. “But honestly, I don’t see how my approach would change if it wasn’t.”

He chuckled. “So, you’re taking the classic approach? Barge in and destroy everything?”

“Okay, first of, I don’t _always_ destroy everything, only when it’s necessary,” Shepard sniped back. “And second, yes, you’re right. If the factory does prove to be… uh… _compromised_ , we will blow the whole thing up.”

From the corner of her eyes, Shepard noticed how Solana’s mandibles shifted the same way Garrus’ did when something bothered him.

“Any thoughts, Sol?”

The female turian froze, her rifle held up as she forgot momentarily how to shoot. Shepard marveled at how different the Vakarian siblings were.

“Well… do you really thing destroying an entire factory is a good idea?” she asked.

Shepard shrugged. “Depends on the factory.”

“Yes, but this is a _turian_ factory,” Solana replied. “The Primarch said we produced _normal_ weapons and-”

“That was before the turians gave up on it,” Shepard interjected. “A lot can happen during that time, Sol. We don’t know what will be waiting for us there.”

Solana nodded, then proceeded to shoot down a dummy.

James gave an impressed nod as the object was shredded to pieces. He reloaded his gun.

“Anything about Garrus?” he asked cautiously.

Shepard and Solana’s exchanged glances, before they cut their eyes away.

The Spectre cleared her throat and forced herself to look at James, but was unable to meet his eyes.

“He… Garrus and his team were captured when the krogan took over Salva.”

Vega breathed out slowly. “Man...” His shoulders dropped. “What are we going to do, Lola?”

Shepard huffed out a laugh and began to pace across the room. She brushed a hand through her hair.

“I…”

“You _are_ going to rescue him, right?” Solana’s eyes shot sideways to Shepard, an anxious sound trilled from her subvocals.

 “Of course I am!” Shepard hissed, feeling anger, indignation flushing her neck. “But I can’t just head out without a plan!”

“And do you have a plan?” Solana asked quietly.

Shepard sighed.

_No._

“I’m thinking on it,” she responded, turning to face her friends again. “Latus’ mission should be ideal to give me an overview of the surroundings, a first feel of what to expect while we’re here.”

“And this mission is _only_ about retrieving something?” James repeated.

She hummed in assent.

“And this compound is _really_ abandoned?“

She shrugged. “As I said, as far as we know… it shouldn’t be too dangerous, though,” she mused. “Satah is in turian hand again, and Ilva, which is still in krogan hands, is on the other side of the river.”

Solana swallowed audibly at the mention of a running water stream. “Is it the ‘Water Demon’?”

“No, it’s a relative,” Shepard answered over James’ snicker. She gave him a glare in warning.

Solana’s brow plates shifted comically high. “The Blue Spawn?!” she squeaked.

James, who’d been holding in his laughter, exploded and doubled over. The turian glowered and advanced on him like a prowling cat.

“Enough, children!” Shepard said, rolling her eyes at their antics. “Come on, the gates will open soon and I want to head out as soon as possible.”

*

They left punctually. Prima’s gates opened and they drove away from the safety of the walls and into the wide grassland. They drove through it for a while, until Shepard turned abruptly right. Latus had mentioned a road that led through the forest and was the quickest way to get to the compound. Shepard opened the windows. It was a rather fresh day; the clouds kept the warmth of the morning sun at bay, and the wind only added to the cold. She hoped it would stay that way. She liked the summer, but it was horrible to work on a hot day.

The large trees grew even larger as they approached. Some of them were the usual green, the type you could find in any other world; but many of them were red like a sun dawn, their trunks dark as coal and of a width that only served as a reminder how peacefully empty the planet had been of any sentient life.

“I heard you can eat the leaves of those trees!” Vega yelled, peeking his head out to get a better look.

Solana searched for something in her bag. “Here,” she said and threw a small satchel into his hand. “They were handing them over at the canteen,” she explained with a shrug, and, after a bit of hesitating, fished a wrinkled leaf from it. She eyes it with a slight twist in her mandibles. Then she shrugged again and stuffed it into her mouth and chewed.

The two humans watched her raptly.

“And?” James nudged her, sitting down again.

Solana shuddered, subharmonics trilling wildly. She covered her mouth and continued to chew.

“You’re not supposed to swallow,” Shepard said. “Just chew like a gum or something.”

She nodded, mandibles tight, and continued to chew. Then, she froze. Her eyes widened slightly, as her facial plates relaxed. She let out a low hum as her chewing slowed. She shrugged again and took another leaf.

“It’s not so bad actually,” she said. She ran her long tongue over her sharp teeth. The leaf had lost a bit of its color as she wrung the taste out of it. “It … it’s actually quite good.”

James grabbed one himself and eyed it with undisguised curiosity. “What’s it taste like?”

“A bit spicy,” she mused. “At first it was really bitter. I almost spat it out, but it changes. You get used to it.”

He pursed his lips. But then he shrugged and said, “Oh whatever,” and ate the leaf. His reaction was similar to the turian’s. The first bit drew a tremor through his body. His face twisted into a grimace, a tear leaked from his eye as he forced himself to continue chewing. He relaxed quicker than Solana; his face softened and he sighed in pleasure.

“Well…” he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t know about spicy, but it’s good.”

Solana frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s sweet, not spicy.”

“Wh- that’s impossible!” She spat out the two leaves, and grabbed another one. She tasted it once more, but the result was the same. “No, it’s not!”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, it is! Lola, tell her!”

“Listen-”

“Guys, the leaves are for levo and for dextro,” Shepard said with a resigned sigh. “You’re eating the same thing, but it just tastes differently.”

The two crew members eyed each other for a moment more. A sort of agreement ran unspoken between them. Solana turned to their leader.

“I’m sorry, Shepard, but we decided to ignore your theory,” she said mildly.

Shepard rolled her eyes. “Oh really?”

“Yep!” Vega called out.

“Oh really?” She twisted in her seat to glare at them. “Then explain to me why several scientists have written papers on this… this phenomenon!”

James rolled his eyes. “Scientists are funded by politicians and corporations.”

“Yeah, and they are only interested in money,” Solana added.

Shepard stared at them, not really looking at where she was driving, and shook her head.

“Whatever,” she muttered.

The two sitting behind her laughed. She felt Solana pat her head patronizingly.

“There, there, Shepard. Sometimes even the best have to be wrong.”

She tried, really tried to keep pouting, but James and Solana were chatting and teasing and cracking jokes, not caring how ridiculous and childish they sounded, until even she gave in and laughed along with them.

James shouted out a cheer. He banged his fist against the roof. “I’m telling you, this mission will be a fun ride!”

-

“I regret everything I ever said,” James muttered when they arrived at their destination.

“Shut up and let me think,” Shepard gritted, eyes scanning carefully the place. “Yeah, this place is definitely not abandoned anymore.”

“Did Latus lie?”

She shook her head slightly, Alina’s calm face flashing before her eyes. “Nah, he’s not a liar.”

“What do we do? Drive them out?”

She cocked her head. “Maybe…”

“Good, I’ll take the tank and-”

Shepard grabbed him by the collar, before he could leave. “Whoa there, cowboy! I haven’t decided yet…

“Sol, how many do you see patrolling outside?”

“About ten, Commander,” the turian whispered.

“That’s about eleven too many,” she muttered. “It’s a good think we left the tank on the other side, or else we’d have trouble leaving…

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” she said. “We’ll go back, take the tank, make a lot of noise to get their attention... Now…” She turned to James. “…Vega, how was your N7 training so far?”

“Exhausting.”

“Good. You’ll take the tank once we’ve gotten their attention. I don’t know how many will come to bother us, but I want you to kill them, then return here to take care of those we can’t kill, alright?”

“Aye, Commander.”

“You and I will sneak in. Quietly and efficiently, can you do that?” she said to the turian.

Solana nodded firmly. “I can, Shepard.”

Latus had been mistaken; the compound was not deserted. About four salarians and six krogan were patrolling the abandoned factory; but considering the humongous size of the building it was not far-fetched to assume there was at least a dozen more enemies waiting inside; and, seeing as what had been produced inside before the turians retreated from this territory, Shepard also assumed their weapons were much more developed and with bigger firepower than theirs.

The walk back to the tank was quiet and done in a great hurry, but thankfully they got there without being noticed.

Vega sat down behind the wheel. “So, do I start with the distraction when you’re _inside_ or do I start immediately?”

Shepard turned on the scanners, but it was acting off still. She huffed. They really needed to get the com tower working again.

“Give us a couple of seconds to take cover… Either way, I don’t think we’ll get very far,” she said, punching the controls to convince them to work properly. “They will be on us the moment they see us.”

James nodded and faced forward again. Solana tapped on Shepard’s shoulder and nodded at the window.

“There’s something out there,” she said lowly, mandibles clasped stiffly on her face.

With a muffled gasp, the humans and the turian ducked in the tank.

“Did you see it?” Vega asked her.

“No. I just saw something big moving outside,” came Solana’s clipped answer.

Shepard breathed slowly through her nose and nudged the man behind the wheel with her boot.

“Open the windows,” she whispered and waited until they were open. Then she motioned Solana to exchange places so that she could have a better view.

“Shit, why do these tanks have to be so small?” Solana whined, twisting her body to be more comfortable, but only succeeding in making herself more uncomfortable.

“You have yourselves to blame. It’s a _turian_ model,” Vega quipped.

A whining noise rang outside. It sounded like the last groan of a wounded man, or a moan of a dying machine. It was a high-pitched sound; one, which froze the team to freeze.

“What the hell was that?” Vega hissed low under his breath.

Shepard risked a quick look over the window. She went pale and ducked. She willed her heart to stop beating so frantically and forced herself to release a deep, slow breath. Vega and Sol were watching her expectantly.

“Shepard?” the turian asked.

“Okay… Okay,” she breathed. The gears in her brain were turning, looking frantically for an explanation to what she had just seen.

“What did you see?”

Shepard’s green eyes met Solana’s. All color had left her face, the blood frozen in her veins.

“Ravager,” she said.

Her team jumped in surprise, but stopped themselves from crying out.

“I-” James peered through the windows of the tank. He gasped and slid back to his place, his gun clutched tight to his chest. Sweat dripped from his nose. “Shit, you’re right.”

“Why would I lie about that?” Shepard retorted with a hiss. She nudged at the turian before her. “Sol, aim from here out. Vega, aim with the tank’s gun, okay? One shot won’t be enough to take it down, and the shot will certainly lead others to our place. Watch out for them.”

Vega nodded and got into position. Meanwhile, Solana had set up her rifle and was now adjusting the visor. Her mandibles spread as if to speak, but they dropped in shock. Her eyes widened and a shudder ran down her body, before it tensed. Shepard frowned.

“What is it?”

Solana looked away and met her eyes. “Shepard, that’s not… that doesn’t look like a ravager,” she said.

Shepard looked through the sniper visor, moved it until the wandering thing came to view. Her brows scrunched together.

“What…”

“See?” Solana whispered insistently. “Ravagers look different. This thing is-”

“Smaller. It’s definitely smaller,” she murmured and bit her lip. “It has legs like a ravager, but…”

It was a monstrosity. Much like ravagers, it walked on four wheels and had something on its back that looked like an egg sack. It didn’t glow like the perverted rachni. Its face was shaped very much like a turian’s, but its eyes were round and hollow and flickered red like a dying lamp. The creature’s mouth was grotesquely open, and dry moans dripped from it. It had four crooked arms and they geared in circular motions, moving sometimes forward, other times backwards.

“What should we do, Commander?” Vega asked lowly, after having checked the creature for himself.

“We kill it,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Whatever it is, it cannot live. We kill it, but try not to destroy it. If it’s something the salarians made then we need to know everything about it.” 

“Yes, Commander.”

“No, wait!” A hand was pressed to her heaving chest. “I have a better idea. We need to catch his attention and lead it to the compound.”

“You think it’ll attack them?” Vega frowned.

She shrugged. “It’s worth a try. If it doesn’t work, then-”

“- we continue with the old plan, I get it.”

James carefully drove towards the clicking ravager-imitation like a hunter would approach a deer. He drove in circles first, but the monstrosity only wheeled right past them. Vega gripped the wheel hard, the touch grounding him and helping him keep his patience. Shepard didn’t have that. She followed the twitching creature with her gaze, all the while tapping her fingers against her seat.

“Ram it,” she finally said, “but gently. I want to see what it’s made of.”

Vega released a deep breath as he stepped hard on the accelerator. The tank howled as it jumped forward. The team stormed at the oblivious monstrosity. James stepped hard on the breaks, manoeuvring until the side of the tank hit the perverted creature. The effect was immediate. The monstrosity screeched. Its limbs began to whirl as guns began to appear from their ends. The flickering of its glowing red eyes stopped as its system finally took notice of the intruders. The groan it released made Shepard’s breath catch as a canon drilled itself out of its gaping mouth.

“Oh, shit,” James muttered.

He didn’t hesitate. The tank howled again as James drove it back towards the factory.

“Slow down, Vega!” Shepard shouted as they raced at the bushes.

He didn’t.

The poor patrollers had no idea what hit them. The tank landed heavily behind them with a roar, followed soon by the clumsy landing of the ravager-imitation. Shepard’s tank was immediately caught in the cross fire of both, but they shot back and ran over their enemies with equal ferocity. The salarians and krogan fought viciously, but had no chance to see the damage they inflicted when the monstrosity fell over them with a chortled screech. It shot aimlessly, thus mowing down everything that stood in its line of fire.

“Looks like it can’t distinguish between enemy and friend,” Vega observed. He caught Shepard’s cold look. “What do you think?”

“I’m thinking off malfunction,” she said, eyes fixed on the rampage ahead.

“Then why not destroy it?” he asked, driving over a bunch of mechs.

Shepard recalled the turian-shaped face and a cold shiver ran down her spine.

“Fear,” she whispered, then stood up, loading her gun. “Drop us off here. And remember-”

James nodded. “Give ‘em hell, I got it.”

Solana and Shepard jumped out of the tank. They had no time to catch their breaths, instead raced to the nearest cover, sheer luck getting them there uninjured. They exchanged quick glances, before they started making their way to the factory.

The monstrosity was still wreaking havoc. Its screeches left them cold and shivering. Its endurance was shockingly strong, and soon their enemies switched their focus on their own creation, leaving Shepard and Solana an easy way into the factory.

The two women stormed into the building. Two krogan stood there prepared. They were quick, but not quick enough and died under the two intruders’ ferocious attack. Solana was hit on the shoulder by a stray shot. She fell with a surprised and pained cry, while Shepard took to eliminating the shooter.

“You okay?” she asked her, helping her up with a concerned frown.

Solana’s subvocals hitched in pain just as medigel kicked in. She nodded tersely. “Nothing that can’t be fixed,” she breathed, brow plates twitching as she noticed the dent in her armor. The turian sighed.

Shepard raised her brows. “What is it?”

Solana stood up on slightly shaky legs. She patted the dust from her arms and thighs. “Nothing… This is just the first dent on my armor. I was hoping it’d take a bit longer.”

Shepard smiled weakly and squeezed her arm comfortingly. She looked outside. Her face darkened. Most of their enemies were dead. The few ones left were giving everything to defeat the malfunctioning ravager imitation, while James kept shooting at the thing from the tank.

“Why doesn’t he just drive over that thing?” Solana asked.

“I don’t want it damaged too badly,” Shepard said. She looked up at Sol. “As soon as that thing is down, you get rid of the others.”

The turian nodded firmly and took hold of her sniper rifle.

Eventually, the monstrosity died the way it lived; screeching pathetically, his ugly limbs whirring slower and slower. A salarian shot into its gaping mouth, then finally it crumbled into a pile of metal and oil. Its glowing red orbs dimmed, then died. The whirring sound strayed, before the inner motor shut down forever. The silence that followed was all the louder.

Four shots rang out, all in close sequence, and the remaining enemies died too. Shepard met Solana’s blue eyes and gave her a pleased nod. The turian straightened, lowering the rifle.

The two women joined Vega just as he kicked open the door.

“What ride,” he drawled, stretching his back with a loud groan. “I thought we’d be here till midnight.”

Shepard kicked the dead monster and jerked back when it gave a high-pitched moan. It didn’t stir otherwise. The three survivors knelt to study it.

“What the-” James touched the thing’s leg. Its skin was hard, curtesy of the metallic plates, but beneath them, what kept these resistant pieces together looked an awful lot like... well, like _skin._

“What is this thing?” Solana whispered, subvocals trilling with distress, as her fingers traced the plates on the monster. “Who… who would do such a thing?”

Shepard was quiet. Her eyes were glued to the monstrosity's turian-like face. In its mouth was the gun, which had nearly killed them many times over.

“Boy, do you think… do you think that’s what they are doing to the prisoners?” James asked in a hushed whisper.

“But why would they need to do that?” Solana cried. “We have already technology to destroy and to kill! There’s no purpose – no… no need for this!”

“We’ll take it with us,” Shepard rasped suddenly. She was standing. “We’ll hand it to Maelon and Miranda. If someone can figure out what – what this is, then it’s them.”

She took a deep breath, forcedly looked at the still factory. “We still need the things Latus asked us for.” She tilted her head toward the building. “Let’s see what’s inside.”

The main gate opened to a large hall. Hundreds of containers were lined up, creating several corridors. Further in the back, as far as Shepard could recognize, were roller conveyors. Workbenches stood dark and quiet against the walls. Tools and blueprints lay discarded and forgotten on the even surfaces.

“So what are we looking for exactly?” Solana asked as they split up to cover more ground. The turian began opening and closing boxes and drawers; all but a few were empty, and those that were not had nothing of importance or value.

“Anything of value,” Shepard said, her omni-tool glowing as she picked up left-overs from the consoles. “You can’t do anything wrong.”

With a slow nod Solana moved on.

“Haven’t you done this before?” Vega asked suddenly.

Solana shook her head. “No,” she added once she realized the others couldn’t see her. “I was more of an analyst, you know? I rarely saw a battle, because I was too busy decoding messages, and trying to find new ways to communicate in secret.”

“That wouldn’t have been for me,” Vega said.

“No…” she muttered, mandibles shifting tighter to her face as she scanned the containers around her. Her attention was diverted by a blinking light coming from the workbenches.

“Shepard, I think I’ve found something.”

Shepard appeared by her side shortly after, Vega joined them just as quickly. The team looked at the unfinished projects, their parts distributed over several desks.

“I think we know now what they’re using the metal for,” James said, inspecting an unfinished arm. The inner canon had not been placed yet. He waved at Solana with the limb. “See? Shiny…”

The female turian rolled her eyes, then hummed as she studied the different tools and separate parts to the unfinished puzzle.

“For how long have they been producing these ‘screechers’, though? I don’t recall anyone mentioning these things since we arrived,” James remarked, a strong hand brushing over the cybernetics and metal plates on the table. Blueprints hung above each workbench; all with the same instructions on how to build a ‘screecher’.  

Shepard stepped in between them, eyes scanning over the plans as Solana picked up a stray metal plate.

“Weird…” she heard Vega murmur, dropping the loose arm of the creature.

“I was going for bizarre,” Shepard replied. She began picking out the blueprints. “We’re taking these with us.”

Solana shook her head, eyes blinking as if she was awaking from a daze. She put the plate back. “Should we keep looking?”

“Yeah. We still need to find Latus’ metal,” Shepard said, walking away to where she’d stopped her search.

“What if the salarians used all of it already?”

Shepard picked up some credits, then resumed her walk. “Unlikely. According to the reports the resources were enough to last for a whole year.”

Solana’s omni-tool glowed as she scanned each container on her passing. “Yeah, but hasn’t the factory been abandoned for a year already?”

“None of the patrols saw anything,” Shepard called out. “The reports are flawed, a lot of the information is false, but even if the salarian had run out of the metal left behind, they surely would’ve brought in more from the mines.”

She stopped before a large machine. “There’s nothing here,” she called out.

“I think I’ve found something, Shepard,” Solana said, hitting the walls of the container to see if there was any latch to open it.

“Can you see what it is?” Shepard asked, moving towards where the Solana’s voice had come from.

“No, I can’t open it,” Solana heaved out a sigh and climbed onto the container. Shepard found her testing the edges for any loose spots.

“Anything?” she asked.

Solana shook her head. Shepard pressed her lips together, thinking everything over.

“Vega, did you find anything?” she called out.

“A lot of things, except for what we’re looking for,” Vega shouted back. “But I found the controls!”

“Good. Can you see Solana?” Shepard turned to the turian. “Sol, stand up.”

“ _Oye_ , Sol! Cheer up a bit and wave!” James yelled from the other side.

Solana’s subharmonics let out a confused sound, but she waved anyway. Vega laughed and the crane began to move as he took hold of the controls.

“Get down, Sol,” Shepard said as the crane began to lower itself to the container.

“What do I do with it?” James asked.

“I saw this laser machine on the left side,” Shepard replied as she and Solana followed the container. “Let’s try open it with that.”

“Shepard, is it safe to open the container with the laser?” Solana asked hesitantly. “What if we damage the cargo?”

Shepard brushed her concern with a careless hand wave. “Nobody’s going to kill us if we damage the cargo, Sol. Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

A sudden shout from Vega was all the warning they got as the container crashed on the ground. Shepard and Solana jumped away, the splinters barely missing the two women.

Solana’s mandibles tightened on her face. “I bet _he_ didn’t know what he was doing.”

Shepard whirled around as she heard James run towards them. “What was that, Vega?” she snapped.

He raised a hand, showing off the control’s handle.

Solana barely managed to suppress a snicker, but the shaky thrum in her subvocals betrayed her anyway. “Didn’t think your grip was _that_ strong.”

Vega glared at her, but had the decency to shift uncomfortably on his feet. “At least it’s open,” he pointed out with a shrug.

Shepard turned to inspect the container. The fall had hit its weakest spot. The crash had left a dent on a side, the edge of the same had opened, leaving enough space for its contents to spill out. Shepard walked closer, eyes narrowed as she tried to identify the objects.

“I don’t know what it is, but it’s not the metal Latus wants,” she said, kneeling to touch the scattered objects. Their colors differed, as did their shapes, although for the most part they were smooth and with a metallic surface. Solana knelt to inspect them closely, shaky fingers brushing over the plates.

“Weird,” she heard James murmur. He lifted one of those plates, then reached inside the open container and began to pull out more of them. “Oh, look at this…” He took out a dense fabric of a rather pale blue. He frowned as his fingers felt the fabric. “No idea what it is, but…” He dropped the fabric and kicked a plate away.

“You IDIOT!” Solana screeched, making the two humans jump. “These are my __plates!”__

“What?” James yelped, staring down at the cluster.

Shepard’s fingers trembled as she lifted one and inspected it closely again. She took off her glove and ran her finger pads over the surface. She gasped, or tried to, and scrambled away from them.

“Don’t you think I would recognize the plates of _my own race?”_ the turian shouted, face twisted into a horrified grimace. Her blue eyes were glazed and wide as they continued to be drawn by the container’s spilled contents.

James heaved and pulled away from the sight. He stumbled away. His body swayed from side to side as if he was drunk and he finally supported himself on a different, unharmed container.

“You sure it – you sure it’s…”

“Yeah,” Shepard croaked, panting for breath. Her eyes were glued to the scattered plates, before inevitably drawn to the blue fabric. “Do you think the blue things is…?” She couldn’t finish the question. Her lips trembled. She had an idea what it could be. What it had to be.

James groaned. “Oh God…”

Solana was trembling. “W-What do we do, Shepard?”

Oh, yes… _she_ was the one in charge here. For a moment she forgot everything, her mind erased to a blank nothing. The wheels in her head were turning, furiously trying to come up with an idea. She grasped her head, pacing up and down. She wished she could look somewhere else, but her eyes were constantly drawn to the turian plates and asari skin.

“I… we need to take this to the Primarch,” she rasped, finally stopping to a halt before her team mates. “We’ll take the container with us.”

A full body shudder went through the turian. “Will you show it to them?”

“Not immediately. I want to talk to Latus in private. I can’t do that with his assistants around him.” She took a step back. “You guys stay here. Get the container ready to move, while I put the ravager-”

James gagged. “Do you think that’s why they needed the prisoners for?”

Shepard was already walking away. “Just do what I said,” she replied, jaw set tight. “I’m done with this place.”

“The blueprints -”

She stopped. “Take them with you,” she said. “We can’t fit the unfinished ‘screechers’ into our tank, but the data is important.”

Vega began to march to the desks, his footsteps were heavier than normal. “Do you want me to place the bombs?”

Solana, mandibles tight to her face, and her neck pale like ash, looked up from the grey mandible she was holding. Shepard didn’t meet her gaze.

“Do it,” she hissed, “I want this place _flattened.”_

James nodded, “Aye, Commander.”

Leaving took them longer than the arrival. The monstrosity was tied to the tank, the turian plates and asari skin were distributed into smaller boxes and stuffed them into the tank. They detonated the bombs after they’d reached a safe distance. The fire blazed in fury, red and yellow, the smoke reached high, the ash clouds spreading over the cloudy sky.

They drove in gloomy silence. The beautiful landscape and the interesting cloud shades were not beautiful and interesting enough to distract them from the evidence of the fate of Sakkem’s prisoners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle reminder that everything about Rubrum is made up. And the leaves Sol and Vega tried, are inspired by the coca leaves which a lot of people in South American countries like Chile, Bolivia and Ecuador chew.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy this long chapter! As hard as the editing process was, I really enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Edit: Due to university I won't be able to update until after the 18th of December
> 
> Edited 9th of February 2017

"You called me, Shepard?"

Liara stumbled behind Shepard as she kept walking straight ahead. She and her team were carrying the monstrosity into the labs. It was covered by a thin fabric, and yet its form was obvious; people who saw them pass, froze or skipped back as they took sight of it, thinking it was a ravager.

Liara's thoughts wandered in the same direction. Her eyes widened. "Is that..."

"No," Shepard answered tightly. "Don't worry about it, this is not what I called you for."

The asari frowned. "Then... why did you call me?"

The door to Miranda and Maelon's lab sifted open and the team walked in. The two were waiting already. They had cleared the workspace; where there had been workbenches, there was an empty space large enough to fit in a ravager-like creature.

"Shit, that thing's heavy," Vega grunted as he dropped the cargo and rubbed his sore shoulder. "You've no idea what you got coming for."

Maelon flipped the fabric off the monstrosity and let out a gasp, bulbous eyes glinting in delight. "Amazing..."

Miranda, who had already her gloves on, touched the fragile half gingerly.

 “Be careful. We don’t have another model running around,” Solana warned.

“Yeah, and let’s keep it that way, alright?” Vega pleaded, stretching his strong arms, then straining his stiff neck. “What a ride…” he groaned.

Miranda chuckled. “I don’t think it was a pleasant one?”

“Oh, really? What gave it away?”

“Well, your cheek is bruised and your armor is dented,” she replied with the same dryness in her voice he’d used against her.

“Well thanks for the ego-boost,” James deadpanned.

"Plus, Sol's armor looks like it was run over by a tank."

The turian snorted. "I was shot, but thanks." She turned to their commander. "I'm going to the mess hall, is that okay?"

"Sure, and take Vega to the med-bay now you're at it," Shepard chuckled and shoved him playfully. “Go and get your shoulder looked at.” She was grinning, but her eyes revealed it was less of a suggestion and more a direct order. “You’re one of the few things I actually enjoy looking at.”

James shook his head. “Lola, Lola… you’re giving a poor man hope where there is none,” he sighed dramatically. Then he clapped his hands as he turned to leave. “Besides…” He turned to shoot her a wicked smirk. “It’s not the face the girls are after…” He ducked with a loud laugh, when Shepard threw her glove at him, and rushed out of the laboratory.

Shepard turned to the scientists. At first, she watched them only. They were so deep into their studies – scanning, unscrewing, taking probes, scribbling on notepads – just watching how their eyes traced each line, each dent, bulge and wire was entertainment enough. There was a drawback though; and Shepard couldn’t quite tell which scared her more – the odd, freakish fascination and morbid curiosity from Miranda and Maelon, or the freakish object itself.

Eventually, Miranda raised her head, when she realized they were not alone.

“There’s nothing you can do here, Shepard,” she said. “We’ll call you when we’ve found something.”

“That will happen sooner than you think,” Maelon said, voice hushed in excitement. He handed her a datapad. “Look at the results!”

Shepard knew when she wasn’t needed, and she assumed that, whatever the salarian had discovered, it was something she would not understand. She left quietly, closing the door while the two babbled on.

She gestured at Liara to follow her.

Liara frowned lightly. “What was you wanted to talk about, Shep-“

Shepard cut her off with a raised hand and led her into her assigned compartment. It had been Garrus’ for the three months he’d lived here. She began to search for bugs.

“Shepard…” Liara shook her head as she watched her friend turn everything upside down. Once everything was out of place, only then did Shepard relax. She pushed the desk chair to the bed and motioned the asari to take a seat, while she herself took the bed.

“What-”

“We have a spy,” Shepard said.

Liara froze, drawing a nod from her friend.

“I don’t have any physical proof, but – remember when we met Latus and he told us about the factory?”

Liara nodded quietly.

"Some of the information was false."

"Really? I... What happened out there, Shepard?" Liara asked.

Her friend sighed, rubbing her forehead. "There's a... a possibility Sakkem is using the prisoners to build weapons."

Liara shook her head. "I... What?"

Shepard's fingers were drumming against her mattress. "That thing you saw us carry to Miranda and Maelon? It’s not a ravager. It’s… Well, I don’t know what it is, but the plates… the plates are turian."

Silence spread as Liara tried to process the information. It stretched long. Five minutes, six, seven... Finally, Liara gasped for breath as if she had been holding it.

"You mean... and you are sure?"

"Am I sure? Don't you think I would've checked before jumping to conclusions?" she hissed. "I had a turian with me. Don't you think she at least would know?!"

Liara was shaking her head frantically, then buried it in her hands. She took a deep breath and looked up again. "This makes things a lot more complicated then."

Shepard released a dry laugh. "As bad as it sounds, it's not the thing I'm most worried about."

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't you listen to what I just said before? We have a spy, Liara! A spy in Prima!"

"How can that be? There are no krogan in Prima!"

"He doesn't need one," Shepard snapped. "Sakkem doesn't need krogan or salarian to spy on Latus!"

Liara tensed as she waited for further explanation. Shepard sighed when she realized she would have to spell it out. She stood up.

“He said Alina gave him the reports telling him that the factory was still abandoned,” Shepard explained, pacing from side to side. “Don’t you know what this means?”

“Shepard, the reports came in months ago. A lot can change during that time,” Liara objected calmly. “Alina probably didn’t know.”

Shepard sighed and pulled her hair out from the ponytail. “You’re not listening,” she hissed. “He said Alina gave him the reports. _Alina._ His assistant.”

Slowly, Liara began to stretch her stiffened fingers. She opened her mouth, then closed it when nothing come out. She cleared her throat. “And are you sure?”

"Who else could it be?” Shepard responded, unbuttoning her gloves and throwing them into a corner. Her eyes fixed on Liara like laser points. “It has to be an asari. Latus is surrounded by them and according to some people here, some asari are allied with the krogan.”

Her intense, almost emotionless expression made Liara shift uncomfortably in her seat. She did not like where this was going.

“So? Maybe he surrounds himself with asari, because he suspects one of his own people to be the spy?”

She got only a snort in return and a roll of eyes.

“Come on Liara! Who are you kidding? Why would a _turian_ spy for the krogan when Sakkem believes his race to be the superior one and thinks all turians deserve to die?” Her voice turned suspiciously mild. “What I need is _someone_ I can trust to win over the Primarch and look out for anything… wrong.”

Liara threw her head back, hitting the chair in the process, and groaned. “I knew it.”

“Since you’re an asari and Latus seemed to be so taken with you, I thought you could… you know… do the job.”

Liara sighed, slumping in her chair. “Why is it always me?” she muttered.

Shepard rolled her eyes. “I had to get the attention of an Ardat-Yakshi, so please.”

“This is different!” Liara cried out, pushing herself up to pace. It was difficult; there was so much lying around, she had to be careful where she stepped. “I could be killed!”

“No more than during a ground mission,” Shepard said flippantly.

"That's not the point, Shepard. You're practically asking me to prostitute myself to an old turian!"

“I am asking you to gain Latus’ trust, not to have sex with him!” Shepard cried.

“It’s the same thing!”

Shepard’s eyes widened in disbelief. She tilted her hips and crossed her arms. “Really? Is sex really the only way you can gain someone’s trust?” She grasped something – one of Garrus’ socks – and threw it at the asari. “Seriously?! Did I sleep with Victus, with Hackett, with Garrus, with _you_ , to make you follow me to a possible death?!”

Liara looked away. “You did sleep with Garrus, though…” She ducked when another sock (red this time) flew her way. Then she threw up her arms in surrender.

“Okay, okay! I will do it! I will win Latus’ trust!” she shouted. "Happy?"

Shepard, armed with a pencil container, lowered her arm with a pleased.  “Thank you.”

Liara was ready to rant some more, when a knock on the door put an end to their heated conversation.

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Come in!"

The door opened, revealing a turian with yellow wave lines on his fore plate.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Commander,” said the turian, “but Primarch Latus requests your presence immediately.”

“What for?” she asked and stood up slowly.

“A meeting.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” she replied, visibly surprised at the invitation. She wondered what was so important that would make Latus send the message through a person, instead of using their technology.

Shepard shrugged and put on her jacket. “Well then…” She gave Liara a nod. “I think it’s best if you come with me.”

As the three left Shepard's room, Liara took the chance to turn to her friend.

"I want you to know, I'm angry at you and offended by your idea," she said stiffly. "Anyone could do this, but you decided to-"

Shepard furrowed her brows. "I gave you an order, Liara," she replied. "I asked you as a friend, but I'm not above asking you as your superior."

Liara stared at her, blue eyes accusatory. Thankfully, her answer came with a nod, and not a sharp retort.

Shepard turned to the turian soldier. The poor guy looked uncomfortable, his mandibles twitching nervously as he waited for them to finish their conversation. She gave him a nod.

“Lead the way.”

*

The meeting had just started, when Shepard marched in, followed closely by Liara. There were three turians present, the Primarch included, and Alina, the assistant. They all stood around the oval-shaped projector and looked up in surprise at the newcomers’ sudden entrance.  

Shepard cleared her throat and flattened her uniform jacket. "I apologize for being late," she snipped. "I just returned an hour ago and had other stuff to do." 

"No problem," Latus replied, raising his voice over the disapproving rumble from the turian beside him. "We were just about to begin with the weekly reports." 

Shepard stepped into the circle around the projector, nudging Liara with her elbow in order to get her to move. The asari's eyes narrowed, before the heat in her eyes dimmed and she turned to the Primarch. His mandibles flicked slightly, and whatever sound thrummed in his subvocals was enough to make the other turians shift uncomfortably. Shepard smirked, tried to contain it as to not look too pleased at the effect Liara had on the now weak-kneed Primarch. 

"I think you have met before," Shepard said with a shameless smile. 

The dark glare Liara cast at her lasted but for a blink of an eye. Her whole face lit up again as she shook hands with the Primarch.  

"We have met before," the Primarch said with a nod. He held her hand longer than necessary. "Liara... is it?" 

She gifted him with a radiant smile. "Yes, Primarch Latus." 

"I hope you don't mind that I brought her along, Primarch," Shepard spoke up. "I was briefing her on the mission, when your messenger caught up with me." 

Latus finally let go of Liara and returned to his spot in front of the projector. "There is no problem. Alina, would you please?" He gestured at the projector.  

Alina pressed on a button and the projector lit up with a map with many blinking dots. She then zoomed in on one of those. It showed what was an array of several settlements, all connected by a large wall that followed the swell of the hills. 

“We're here to discuss our next move,” Latus informed Shepard. "We've just gotten the newest reports from Satah and other settlements." He nodded at the turians standing around the projector.

"General Otur oversees the situation in Carthar, a group settlement east of Prima. He managed to get away for this meeting."

Otur gave a curt nod. He had neither the presence nor the charms of the Primarch, but Shepard couldn't be sure until she heard him speak; it was a slightly unfair judgement, considering his looks should have no influence in his effectiveness as a leader. On the other hand, his clan markings were more interesting than Latus’. They were of a darker shade of yellow, almost bronze and under the glaring light of the projector the sharp, yet delicate lines glistened on his greyish plates like stars.

Shepard wondered where he was from. The little she remembered about turian culture, colony markings were important. Everything, or most things, depended on them. They revealed the family heritage. They revealed your birthplace. And whatever the two things were, they definitely influenced the way one was viewed by others. The older and the more complex and delicate their tattoos the more prestigious, the older was the family they belonged to.  That is why turians without clan markings were shunned. Mistrusted and untrustworthy. It was a miracle that Saren had made it to spectre status. Talus himself had said the Council’s decision could be seen as a stance against the century-old tradition. A rebellious act.

No wonder Garrus had rebelled so hardly against his father and his high expectations. It was no surprise Solana felt pressured to do well. At 32 years old she had done little in the Hierarchy’s eyes. But Shepard knew better and she was sure Talus disagreed as well. No job was so unrewarding in terms of public recognition than caring for those in need. Solana had cared for her ill mother for almost seven years. Her prime had been 'wasted' washing dirty bed linen, holding a shaky arm as her weakening mother tried to walk or stood, giving her the useless medication and listening and speaking patiently to the disoriented, sometimes ridiculous mumblings of a turian sentenced to a slow death.

Latus moved on to the other turian present.

"Commander, this is Agar Valens, High Priest of the Order."

Shepard raised her eyebrows. Her lips twitched. "'The Order', huh?"

Latus nodded. "Yes, the Order. It's a religious convent."

"A religious - I thought you turians didn't have a religion!"

"We do. Maybe not like you do, but spiritual worship is pretty common in our culture. The importance to reconnect has - uh - rekindled during the Reaper War, but we’ve always been around," Agar answered, dual-voice smoothing over any tension in the room. He stepped aside and walked over to Shepard, offering his hand.

"It is an honor to meet you, Commander Shepard." His mandible twitched in a slight smile. "I'm sure everyone you meet says the same thing."

Shepard laughed at that. "They do, Sir."

He chuckled, the amused thrum of subvocals making his mandibles shiver. "And tell me, do they ever bore you?"

"I wish they'd change the platitudes sometimes," she said with a shrug. "But you know, I take what I can. Someone like me can't afford to be petty." She craned her neck to stare at the painted ornamentation on his dark facial plates. "What colony are those from?"

Alina whispered into Latus' ear, "Sir, shouldn't we..."

The Primarch nodded, missing the dark look his assistant threw Liara. "We should. Commander, Agar, Sir." He gestured at the projector, while both Shepard and the priest placed themselves around the projector.

“Please continue, Otur.” 

The turian at the Primarch’s side cleared his throat and straightened. "As I have mentioned before we were interrupted, the situation in Carthar has... well… it has stabilized since the last attack 29 days ago.

The atmosphere in the room stiffened like a bowstring. Shepard knew little about that place, but just the bare mention of it sent a cold shiver down her spine.

“That won’t be a problem anymore,” she said and stepped forward. “The factory was occupied and the salarians already producing…” Her eyes slid sideways to Alina, before turning back to the turians. “They were already producing weapons and mechs, using the metal for their armor.”

She sighed and looked at Latus. “You won’t like it, but I didn’t feel safe leaving that place behind without any guards. I blew up the factory.” 

“You did _what?!”_ Otur cried out.

Shepard nodded. “You weren’t there, Sir. I -”

“She had no permission!” the general cried, looking at his superior.

“I’m a Spectre. And Latus here sent me personally there to take care of things,” Shepard responded heatedly. “And I did. I have no regrets.”

“This is unbelievable!”

Latus raised a hand. “This is enough,” he said, tone subdued. “We can discuss this later. Tell me, Commander…” His mandible twitched. “Have you at least brought the resources I asked you for, before you destroyed the factory?”

She gave another nod. “I did, Sir. I have handed it over already to the armory. They have said they will get in touch with you once the first orders are done.”

It was his turn to nod. He turned back to the projector. “Good. You can continue now, Otur. You said, the salarians were driving from the science facility to the factory…”

Mandibles tight, the general faced the projected image again. “Yes. All tracks led us to believe it so. I have sent people after them, just to find out what they’re up to, but none of them have returned. I'm afraid they were caught."

The Primarch hummed, said nothing for another moment. Then – “And the patrols?”

“Nothing unusual on our front aside from the fact there are salarians and krogan driving back and forth.” His mandibles drew tight to his face, before relaxing again. The projector’s light flickered, sending a wave of changing colors over his clan markings.

“It is only a matter of time, before their next attack,” Agar spoke up.

“I agree,” the general said with a respectful bow to the priest. “That is why I’m here personally, Primarch Latus. This cannot go on for any longer. People are scared to leave their settlements since the Council handed over Ilva and Satah to Sakkem.

“Ever since he and his people arrived on our planet, our people have been forced to abandon their smaller settlements, their secluded villages due to their uncivilized rampaging and terror. And they are getting angry, not only at Sakkem, but also with you. They are wondering… I receive hundreds of letters every day from people asking _why_ you haven’t called us to war against the krogan yet! So this is why I am here: to ask, in the name of the citizens of Carthar, why you haven’t called to arms yet.”

Latus stared at him for a long minute. His face was expressionless. His eyes shone like onyx under the bright light of the projector.

“I do plan on calling to arms eventually,” he said. “But we cannot win, we cannot… _crush_ their military force until we have back-up. We can’t get in touch with the Hierarchy until the com tower is in our hands again.”

“Sir, then our next move should be reconquering the com tower,” Otur urged. “Let’s finish this, before this mess gets any farther.”

“What about the science facility?”

Everyone turned to Agar.

The turian straightened. “I do not disagree with you, Otur. But shouldn’t we at least spare a thought at our people in the science facility? The few reports we got from the scouts report about horrible things happening in there and it is our own, who have to suffer the salarians’ morbid curiosity.”

Otur let out a shaky thrum of his subharmonics. “That is why reconquering the com tower is key to our victory,” he argued. “We cannot free our people without an army. And we cannot send our troops there without putting at risk our own cities.” He glanced around, meeting each person’s eyes. “I am aware of how cruel I must sound, putting a stupid tower above the safety and freedom of our people. But if we don’t solve this communication problem, we might lose the war. And how will we be able to ask for aid, when no one can listen?”

Shepard’s lips pressed tight together, until they were a thin, pale line. "If we don't free the prisoners, they will die for sure," she responded, keeping her voice calm, but the tone was nonetheless sharp.

"You think I don't know that?" Otur's throat rumbled with repressed fury. "Commander, need I remind you who you're talking to? I have fought against the krogan when they attacked my city and we barely won. I was there when the krogan conquered Satah and I was there to see her return into turian hand. I was here from the start!"

He rubbed his left arm with a grimace. "I am perfectly aware of what the krogan and the salarians are capable of," he said sharply. "And I know, though I cannot imagine, what my people must be going through right now..."

 _You don't,_ Shepard thought bitterly, the screecher and the scattered turian plates flashing before her inner eye.

"... but I also know that, the sooner we get the com tower back, the sooner we can ask for reinforcements and end this war."

Shepard was quiet as she waited for Latus to voice his opinion. The Primarch had been quiet throughout the whole exchange, aside from the odd rumbling in his throat. He looked at Otur for a long while, then shifted his gaze at the projected image in front of them. He hummed. Eventually, he turned to the High Priest.

"What is your advice?" he asked calmly.

This time all eyes were drawn to him. Agar sighed and took his time with the answer.

"My mind says the comm tower has the priority or else we'll all get to pay the price," he said carefully. "But... my heart tells me rescuing the prisoners would be the right thing to do." He took a deep breath. "I agree with Commander Shepard. Sakkem has the comm tower in his hands already. He is expecting us to attack Salva, so it makes only sense for him to secure the area. Liberating the science facility would not only give us an insight into what the salarians are doing with our people, it will also be a hard blow on their morale, and a much needed uplift for ours.”

“It is the last thing he will be expecting,” Shepard added.

“But if we free the prisoners, Sakkem will focus his wrath on Prima. And if Prima falls… what else is left?” Otur shook his head. “Satah is already barely holding on. And Carthar has been ignored lately, but that will change once -”

“Sakkem will advance with his plan regardless of what we do, General,” Shepard objected.

“And you are so worried about your husband’s state you cannot see the whole picture!” Otur spat, subvocals rising higher than the words.

Shepard balled her fists and took a menacing step forward. “You…”

“That is enough, Otur,” Latus warned, his hand raising up to almost touch Shepard’s heaving chest. “We are all tense and tired. I'd say we should discuss this tomorrow," the Primarch concluded, "There is a feast today in honor to the spirits of Prima. I suggest we try to keep it out of our minds for the night and enjoy the celebration as long as we can, before the real world kicks our asses again."

"It is much needed," Agar agreed with a polite bow.

"What? The celebration or the kick in the ass?" Shepard asked, sounding bitterer than she had intended. Latus and Agar and even Liara laughed, but Otur and Alina didn't join in.

There would not be any rest for Shepard. She knew she needed it. She'd been on and about since the sun rose and had not had the chance to sit down properly since she came back from the mission. The softness of her bed - Garrus' bed – could do little to protect her from her own mind. The warmth of the blankets could not shelter her from the coldness from the possibilities of her husband's fate. How could she sleep, while other people suffered?

* * *

  
*

_Outside the turian territory on Prima_

_Approx. 4:30 p.m._

_The day the connection is lost_

*

Calah stopped the shuttle before the last gate and twisted in her seat to look at them.

“That’s the last stop,” she said.

“Yeah…” Garrus said with a sigh and looked back as the last gate opened before them. Five tanks followed them, all soldiers, all armed to their teeth.

Calah stopped the vehicle and sighed deeply. “Ready?” she whispered.

Garrus pushed the door open. “Ready.”

“We’ll crush them,” Syrus growled.

The sun glared warm and heavy on their heads; it was a beautiful day with a deep blue sky.

Primarch Latus and Garrus had stayed awake for two days, discussing every strategy and scenario possible, and had eventually agreed that the best thing would be to secure Salva once and for all. In the last couple of weeks, the krogan had increased their attacks to gain control over the com tower. So far, the turians had been able to fight them off, but with each attack, their enemies’ aggression heightened, and the numbers of casualties – civilian and military – increased. It was time to end this.

He and his team advanced with long steps into the widest and last building before the outer wall. It had taken many hits during the attacks, but it stood strong and proud. It reminded Garrus of a mountain; and they were the morons, who were tasked to bring it down to its knees. He shook his head and entered the empty building.

“This used to be a theater, wasn’t it?” Tavis whispered.

“Yes,” Calah said. “Turian design.”

“It’s going to be a pain bringing this one down,” grumbled Syrus. “The Reapers ravaged my hometown; but most of our buildings were still standing.” He huffed, mandibles twitching angrily. “I can’t say the same about the people.”

Garrus nodded at the soldiers in the building, all expectant for further orders. He took a deep breath.

“You know your job. We need to destroy Salva’s gates and outer rings to keep the com tower. It won’t stop the krogan indefinitely, but it will give us a few months’ break. We cannot – I repeat, we _cannot_ fail.

“We will blow up this building to block the street. Aside from that we will also be placing bombs at the gates. Only when this building here is down, only then do you have to set off the next.” He cleared his throat. “Any questions?”

Nobody stirred. He wondered if they didn’t dare ask.

“Good. Group 4 will begin to evacuate the outer and second ring, but the former has to happen _first_. Once the first gate is destroyed, no one will get in. Group 5 and 6 are in charge of evacuating the third and fourth ring.” These two groups were hopefully already at it and filling the ships.

“According to our source, the krogan are intending to attack in an hour. That gives us all enough time to set up everything and-”

The ground underneath their feet began to tremble and with it the windows’ glass. It was faint, could’ve been mistaken for an illusion, but the sound destroyed all semblance of hope.

The soldiers, turians, humans and asari alike, were all frozen in shock as they stared outside. A turian soldier, standing watch outside, peered inside.

“Ah, Commander… I don’t want to be the harbinger of bad news, but… the krogan are on their way,” he said glumly. 

Garrus shut his eyes, mandibles tight on his face.

“We follow the plan,” he said, voice rough. He looked at the turian soldier standing outside, knowing he and his fellow men were going to feel the heat of the battle fire first, and were more than likely going to be the first ones to die.

“You stay in your posts. _Fight.”_

The soldier nodded once, but with determination. “We will, Commander.”

“Remember when we were supposed to get as much Intel for Victus to make his decision and find the guy, who was behind all this mess?” Calah said to him as everyone went to their assigned places.

It was meant to be a joke, a comment to lighten up the already tense atmosphere, but Garrus didn’t have it in him to fake a laugh or even a chuckle.

“Yeah, about that…” He grasped her arm and led her aside. “Listen, I want you to go back into the inner circle. I have a bad feeling.”

Her hands balled into fists. “Are you saying the plan is not going to work?”

“No plan ever lasts the battle,” he said. “But that’s not the point. Things will get messy, but I need you up there on the com tower.”

“You want me to-”

“Take a couple of men with you. I know it’s last minute, but something is sure going to go wrong,” he explained, “I don’t know what exactly, but if it _is_ the worst case scenario, then I want you to blow up the com tower.”

Calah was quiet for a moment as she stared at him in disbelief. Her mandibles flared and she hissed, “What? The com tower?! Sir…” She gasped for breath, subvocals thrumming nervously. “Sir, as we speak our men are placing the bombs to destroy entire blocks of Salva. They’re destroying their own homes! The com tower-”

He shook his head. “I’m not asking you to blow the whole thing up. Just the controls. As long as is doesn’t function again, okay?”

“But…. Sir, what if the krogan break through, but lose? If I _do_ destroy the signal, how will we get in touch with the outside?”

“If the krogan lose, we will have the time to repair it.” He hesitated, mandibles twitching slightly. “I’m not going to lie to you, Calah, but if the krogan do break through, it will be very hard to win. Whatever happens, they must not get the com tower.”

She looked like she wanted to protest. Her mandibles tightened on her face. She swallowed, but gave him a nod.

“Understood, Commander.”

*

The battle didn’t start in their favor.

The krogan started first. The first and second shot came from a tank and the fixed part of the outer wall crumbled like bread. The soldiers stationed there were decimated within the first fifteen minutes, and no matter how many times the snipers on the many buildings fired, the krogan stormed through like water.

It was only when the turians started to really fight back that Garrus saw a possible victory. Asari and humans raised biotic shields and their enemies struggled against them in vain. One by one they were taken out by the turians.

Garrus was in a good spot; he could see the vast land behind the walls and even the beginnings of a smaller forest. The street that led directly to the theater was completely visible; and if he wasn’t busy shooting rampaging krogan on the wall, he was picking up salarians running along the street.

In a short moment of reprieve, Garrus noticed something which dampened his already low spirits even more. Most tanks had advanced by now, driven closer to the city. Only one of them stood motionless. Garrus looked through the sniper’s visor, but there was nothing out of the ordinary about the tank. It looked just like any other tank. What was it waiting for?

 _“Almost done…”_ Syrus said oddly calm.

Garrus released slowly a breath and loosened his grip on his weapon. They could make it.

 _“Sir!”_ Tavis’ voice broke in fear. _“They are too many!”_

 _“I need two minutes, Sir!”_ Syrus announced through the earpiece.

“Good! We’ll keep the krogan in line,” Garrus said, his mandibles flaring as he placed his long-range rifle on the upper window.

The noise and stench of the battle surrounded him like a familiar veil of mist on a moist winter’s night on Palaven. There was no winter in Cipritine the way humans and asari knew it. It was still warm, but it rained more frequently, the heat and radiation making it evaporate faster. It was also during these two long months that many turians got ill.

Why Garrus thought of this now, he didn’t know. He inhaled deeply, then released a long breath as he studied the range before him. This was where he could do the most damage. He and his other men had to keep the krogan in line until the bomb was installed. Once that part was done, they had to escape to lead the krogan through the building they were currently in. If everything went according to plan, the explosion would take most of their enemies down in one go, and block the entrance.

But Garrus was too old, too experienced to believe that everything would go according to plan.

He pulled the trigger, not waiting to watch how the krogan’s head exploded as his shields burst under the pressure of his bullet. He moved quickly to the side. Four krogan and seven salarians were approaching the main door quickly. There was no way he could kill them in one go. Their shields were too strong.

A salarian fell once Garrus shot again. “Tavis, you see them?”

 _“I’ll take care of them, Sir!”_  Tavis’ voice dimmed under the sound of his omni-tool overloading the shield of a krogan, who fell as shots rained onto his body. The others got in, bursting through the wall like a … well, like krogan.

 _“Sir!”_ Tavis yelled. _“One is one his way up!”_

Garrus growled, lowering his sniper rifle and pulling his loyal vindicator from his back. He threw the nearest table to the side and took cover. His mandibles flared again, a low growl rumbled from deep within his chest.

The roaring increased in volume as the krogan warrior stormed up the staircase. The paint on the walls was ripped from the cement as the brute fought his way through, his massive, armored body scraping the narrow hallway. With a furious roar, his head smashed through the closed door. He shot blindly into the room and had Garrus’ shields not been up, he surely would have died.

Garrus bared his teeth as the krogan approached. His eyes watched his every move. There was no grace in them. No elegance. The krogan was a war machine, he realized. An armored tank that ran over anything without consideration for proper warfare. Garrus rolled to the side, as the bullets teared a hole into the table, aimed and shot. The krogan stumbled back, bullet grazing his chest and leaving a bleeding wound. There was no time to waste. Garrus jumped on the opponent, his knees digging into the other’s chest as he lunged and his fist collided painfully against his thick, leathery throat.

The krogan gurgled and punched back, but Garrus ducked quickly. He stood up, pressing his foot hard onto the warrior’s neck as he frantically grabbed his weapon and, pushing the end into his mouth, pulled the trigger.

_“Sir! The bomb is installed! We have twenty minutes to-”_

Garrus nodded breathlessly, his eyes staring back through the visor of his dear Black Widow.

Thick white clouds were looming on the sun, but not covering her yet. It was a warm day, not unpleasantly so, with a gentle breeze caressing the land and spreading the scent of blooming flowers everywhere. Or that’s what he would feel, were they not in the middle of a battlefield.

“Alright, let’s finish it!”

The soldiers cheered over the com.

Garrus hummed appreciatively, giving one last look through the scope of his rifle. Things were going according to plan. He would kill the closest krogan, before joining the others downstairs.

And then he saw him.

The source of the conflict.

Sakkem, the battlemaster.

This threat had to be removed. There was no other option, Garrus realized as he studied the krogan. Broad, arms the strength of a hundred weapons, his red armor blazed in the sun like a dying star. If there was one krogan, who could rival Wrex and win in a fight, then Sakkem was the one.

He approached the city on the tank that had been left alone. He stood on it and resembled a monument. He was utterly terrifying.

“He’s here!” Garrus shouted louder than he intended, following the leader’s every move through the scope. “We must take him down!”

The ground before and around the nearing krogan exploded under the rain of power and bullets from the turian army. The gun in his hands pushed against Garrus’ shoulder with every pull of the trigger. Some of the approaching warriors fell, but with every dead soldier, three seemed to take their place.

Garrus gritted his teeth, the gunfire and shouts from his teammates rang in his ears like a mistuned orchestra. His focus lay solely on the moving battlemaster, but he regenerated so quickly it was as if Garrus was throwing cotton instead of everything he had.

He heard Tavis shout.  _“Sir! There’s too many of them! We can’t hold them much longer!”_

But suddenly things turned in their favor. Tavis threw a grenade, which hit an explosive tank and in turn set off all the mines in its surroundings. The strength of the explosion and the sudden heat threw Garrus off. He recovered quickly and within the second was back aiming with his dear Widow. His heart leapt in his chest.

Sakkem’s shields were down.

 _“Six and a half minutes!”_ Syrus yelled.

“Take down the others! I’ll take care of Sakkem!” Garrus ordered and aimed.

There was a deafening noise and it did not come from the krogan, but from within Salva. Garrus’ heart leaped to his throat. He ran to the opposite side to look out of the window. All blood left his face as he gazed at the gate on the second wall crumble, effectively blocking their way into a safer ring.

 _“Commander!”_ Tavis shouted.

_“What happened?” Syrus yelled. “They didn’t-”_

“Stay where you are!” he ordered, subvocals trilling wildly. “Sakkem is still there!”

He returned to his place. His hands shook slightly as he placed his rifle on the window and looked through the scope. Releasing a slow breath he focused on the target. Sakkem’s shields had not regenerated yet. The noise faded as the laser point whirled around and found its place on the squinting right eye of the battlemaster. Garrus inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.

A tremendous and loud boom shook the entire building from within just as Garrus pulled the trigger.

The shot, which would have otherwise killed Sakkem, hit the shoulder of one of his soldiers. The velocity of the bullet was so strong and the krogan so weakened that he fell with a soundless growl. The shoulder piece of his armor splintered and the hot, sharp material hit Sakkem square in the face.

 _“NO!”_ Garrus roared, his heart sinking with the ground underneath him. Spirits be damned! The Black Widow fell from his grasp when the ground crumbled beneath him and he was thrown back.

_“The salarian set off the bomb early!”_

_“The building’s collapsing!”_

Garrus couldn’t tell who was screaming through his ear piece. He lost sense of time, was completely disoriented as he flailed around, desperately trying to find something to hold onto. He caught hold of a hanging pipe. Water dripped from its end. He slid down it, the metal rubbing hotly and uncomfortably on his gloves. Rocks of cement rained down on him as he fell and it was more of an instinctual move that he jumped to the side as he landed on his feet.

“RETREAT!” he shouted uselessly, stumbling away from the ruins.

Soldiers, enemies and allies alike, lay on the ground, buried beneath the rubble, dead or dying.

“Retreat!” he shouted again, helping an asari to her feet as they headed towards the exit.

He met Tavis on his way out, who had a gaping wound above his right brow plate. The turian with the strange clan markings looked frantically around as he followed Garrus along the steaming ruins of what had once been the columns of a theatre.

“What happened? Where’s Syrus?” Garrus shouted. He couldn’t tell if it was loud or he had just lost his hearing, but the tech expert didn’t seem to mind.

“They got in, the krogan and salarians. We thought the krogan were the bigger threat so we took care of them first.” Tavis shook his head. His fingers trembled as he reloaded his weapon and looked at Garrus in the eyes. His mandibles tightened and loosened frantically. “As to where Syrus is… I don’t know, Sir.”

Garrus paused. What was he to do? The bomb that had set off early in the second ring, how could they cross the wall? They couldn’t, but had no choice but to die trying.

“We pull back,” he said with finality. “Hopefully, we-“

The exit behind them (or what was left of it) exploded as three krogan stormed through it, roaring at the top of their lungs and shooting mindlessly.

“Take cover!” But Tavis had already jumped behind a rock.

“Sir, they are too many!”

“I _know!_ But this hasn’t stopped us before, so why should we give up now?” Frankly, Garrus was faking his confidence, but panicking was out of question, never mind that it would be contra productive in their situation.

They had faced higher odds before and prevailed. The Reaper War was proof of that.

“Concentrate on their faces!” Garrus yelled over the noise of gunshots and shouts. “The plates on their head are very sensitive. Hit that and they’ll slow down!”

Tavis' subharmonics were unnerving him. He himself could barely hide how scared he was. It didn’t help that the adrenaline, plus the blood that ran down his face, was making it difficult for him to concentrate and aim right.

“Commander!”

Garrus’ heart leapt in his chest and his subharmonics emitted a high-pitched tone at the relief he felt when Syrus joined them a bit farther ahead. He bumped his elbow against Tavis arm and the young turian sighed almost in relief at the welcome sight. His face stiffened with new determination, wiped the blood from his face and concentrated on doing his duty.

Garrus gave it twenty minutes, before they were overrun. They were ridiculously outnumbered, most of them carried an injury. It didn’t matter how well they were trained.

He thought of Shepard. She had tried to hide it, but Garrus had noticed she wasn’t feeling well. She’d been glowing for weeks, her good mood had been contagious and for one reason Garrus’ heart had leapt in his chest every time he thought of her. It was like being a teenager all over again. Then, from one day to the other her good mood had vanished. It had to do with that small mission, Garrus knew. She had said she wasn’t hurt, but he didn’t believe her. She was lying to him. He could see how bad she was feeling. He could feel it in the way she spoke, how forced her smiles were and how dull her usually bright eyes had become.

He couldn’t _die._

Garrus clutched his short range pistol tighter and aimed. He growled.

“Okay, guys. Let’s show them what we’ve got!”

They fought. The world around them faded until the only thing left was the smell of blood, sweat, dirt and smoke. Their ears drummed with the constant and violent rain of bullets. Garrus vaguely saw Tavis taking cover for his shields to recover. There was another explosion and the entire building shook in its base, groaning as it was conquered by fire. Rocks and stones from the ruins above them hit them unexpectedly, but at least they hit their enemies as well.

Garrus’ throat was dry, his fingers and knees ached from the effort.

The battle here was lost.

“Pull back!” he ordered.

He turned to Tavis and grasped his arm, dragging him away from the battle. The krogan warriors broke through their defense. The table, where the two turians had taken cover splintered with the force of the attack. The noise of gunfire mixed with the shouting and crumbling of the building until it was only one loud tune.

They were overwhelmed. Green smoke spread across the entrance hall of the tower (or what was left of it) like mist during a humid and cold day. Garrus gripped the stumbling young turian on his side tighter, his hold slipped under the armor, but he refused to let go.

Tavis let out a moan, he wiped his eyes and stumbled forward. Garrus fell with him.

“We need to – _ah!”_ Garrus’ voice broke in a painful, muted cry.

The green mist had to be some kind of tear gas. It was disorienting. They couldn’t smell or see through it, the gunfire and screams around them only adding to the disorientation. A human soldier was caught in the cross fire and fell to die.

“What’s happening?” Tavis screeched.

He covered the young turian’s mouth and forced him to his feet. He dragged him forward, but where precisely he couldn’t tell. The only thing in his mind was to get out.

Garrus’ heart froze in his chest. He gasped for breath. Whatever this chemical was, it was too inventive, too intelligent for the barbaric krogan warfare.

Tavis’ arms flailed around, trying to reach for something to hold on. “Garrus!”

He slid his hand into his mouth. The sharp teeth dug into the leather glove.

“Calm down, Tavis,” he growled, leading him forward without stopping. He couldn’t panic. He had brought the young turian with him, so it was his duty to make sure he succeeded. He couldn’t fail him. “You need to stay calm,” he repeated. “I’m with you. I’m not leaving you.”

The tremors that went through Tavis’ body were contagious. The fear of the youngest team member flowed over to Garrus like a wave. He needed to stay calm for both of them.

“Do you see over there?” He pointed to their right. “See where the smoke gets thicker and then thinner and lighter?” He waited for Tavis’ to nod. “Okay, that’s our exit. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Tavis gasped, shaking his head up and down without stop. “We’re out soon. We’re out soon. The bomb- the-”

Garrus shushed him. His eyes were burning as did his wounds. He thought of Shepard. The mist was awful. It burned on his tongue, the taste of it was none he had ever tasted before. Neither bitter, nor spicy nor sweet, nor salty. A mix of all with a teaspoon of acid.

His mind was blurry. Tavis heaved, his knees buckled, but Garrus threw them both forward and out of the suffocating tower. The bright sun light was blinding, but the air refreshed their lungs, soothed the burns in between their plates and mouths.

Garrus and Tavis laughed breathlessly. Their throats ached with the effort. The older turian wrapped an arm around him and led the young team member away from the wrecked building.

“Well, look who we have here…” A deep, manly voice chuckled, the sound sending fearful shivers down their spines.

Garrus and Tavis looked up, freezing at the same time as their eyes locked on the sight of Sakkem and his warriors. The survivors of the turian army were kneeling at their feet.

The krogan nudged their captives' heads with their rifles and pistols as soon as Garrus even reached for his weapon.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the battlemaster growled. When there was no response from the last ones standing, he gave a brusque nod and pointed at them. “Throw down your weapons and kneel.”

Tavis looked at Garrus for guidance. His green eyes were glowing in fear. Garrus looked at his team. The gas had left their eyes bloodshot. Saliva dripped from their mandibles, their tongues were hanging out and swollen. The sensitive skin between their plates had a darker shade of blue than usual.

He and Tavis had to be looking the same.

“No,” he rasped.

A shot rang out and a turian soldier was dead.

“You are in no position to negotiate, turian,” Sakkem said, stomping his feet on the ground. He spat. “I’m losing my patience. Lower your weapons or I’ll rip this one’s mandibles of his ugly face.”

He gripped Syrus’ fringe and pulled his head back painfully. His other hand took hold of the right mandible and twitched it. The turian tensed. 

There was a loud clunk as Tavis and Garrus gave up their weapons.

Sakkem laughed throatily, the other krogan chuckling with him. “Not so brave now, turian?” He nodded pleased. “Now kneel,” he ordered gruffly.

They didn’t dare hesitate. They knelt.

“Good. Now crawl and line up with the others.”

Tavis looked at Garrus, whose mandibles fluttered at the coming humiliation. They tightened and before he even knew what he was doing, he placed his arms on the dusty ground and crawled.

Garrus was breathing hard. The blood shot up to his face. His eyes and mouth were burning and dripping. The cool air was not helping, it was doing the opposite. He squeezed his eyes shut as he passed by the snickering krogan and finally stopped beside an asari. Tavis joined him soon after. Garrus risked a glance to the side, to check if everything was alright with him and started as he saw the beginning of a swell on the turian’s tongue. The wound on his forehead had stopped bleeding, but there was a white puss leaking from it.

Did he look like him? The wetness leaking from his own mouth was answer enough. He raised his hand to wipe the drool from his mandibles, but the butt of a pistol dug into his neck and he froze.

Sakkem paced in front of the captives, injured and dizzy from the gas. He was humming, grumbling under his breath.

Garrus risked a look. The krogan’s face was scarred. His left eye was covered in ooze and blood. He would lose sight in that eye permanently and a scar would remain. Garrus traced his teeth with tongue, which felt weird and painful due to the swelling. He wondered how he would pay for that blind eye.

“Animals…”

Sakkem’s whisper made everyone present shudder. The captives dared to look up from the ground. The krogan stopped his pacing and glared down.

“You are animals,” he called out. He raised a massive paw and wiped the blood from his face. “See what you’ve done to me?” He grabbed a Syrus’ head, who let out a distraught sound as his plates came in contact with his skin.

“Even now, after thousand years of suffering, you still continue to delay our progress.” he murmured. He growled and pushed his wet hand into his mouth. His eyes widened. He gagged as he tasted his blood.

Sakkem then resumed his pacing, all the while grumbling under his breath, cursing the turians and lamenting the suffering the genophage had brought onto his race. He halted in front of Garrus.

The turian was inadvertently glaring at the krogan’s knees. He had trouble breathing. His tongue, bluer and swollen, was hanging out of his mouth, his sharp teeth rubbing it raw. Sakkem placed his large hand on his head. Garrus gasped as his visor was torn away. The other hand pushed his head down. His body slumped forwards with a dull thumb and a pained gasp from the turian, but no other sound, save the panting, came from him.

Something heavy dropped before him with a dull thud. Garrus squinted upwards. At first, he thought it was a ball, but when looking closer…

“Do you recognize him, turian?”

Garrus swallowed, but his throat and mouth stayed dry. He shut his eyes and winced, when Sakkem jerked on his fringe like a leash.

“Look at it!” he growled, grabbed Garrus’ face and forced him to look up. The krogan’s face was close to his as he turned the ‘ball’ for Garrus to see.

It was definitely not a ball. Sakkem chuckled as recognition and horror made Garrus’ mandibles tighten. Baxihr’s sightless eyes stared right into Garrus’ soul.

“Oh, yes. You thought I wouldn’t notice. But I did and he lost his head, because of you.” He kicked the head away with a disapproving grunt and turned back to the captive audience.

“Remember, turian,” Sakkem snarled. He put his foot on top of his head, bending the fringe uncomfortably and pressed down, until his forehead kissed the ground and Garrus tasted the dirt.

He had never felt more humiliated in his life.

He squeezed his eyes shut, gasping again when Sakkem pressed harder. Garrus clenched his fists until his nails tore into the leather of the glove. He would not beg in front of his soldiers. He would never, ever beg for his life.

“Remember, turian,” Sakkem repeated. His foot released Garrus, who struggled to get up. When he did, a krogan hit his lower back with the butt of the rifle and with a stunted grunt, fell forward again.

Sakkem huffed in amusement. “The ground is your place, turian,” he said.

Another gasp rushed from Garrus’ throat as Sakkem grabbed him by the fringe again and forced him to meet his eyes. One of them was swollen, covered in blood and puss. The other, narrowed into a furious slit, was amber colored.

“Your debt is very high, turian. My people demand restitution. Someone has to pay for the genophage. For the thousand children that died before their time,” he said calmly. He lifted his free hand and pulled at Garrus’ scarred mandible and he couldn’t help but whimper. If he pulled any harder he would tear out the plate.

Sakkem shook him and Garrus opened his eyes. The krogan grinned, showing off his teeth. Garrus stared back, felt fear growing inside him. 

The turian slumped back when he was released again. Tavis and the asari tilted their bodies towards him, leaning against him so that he didn’t lose balance and humiliated himself any further.

Throughout his life, Garrus had met and hunted very bad men and the Reapers had created another category of what he considered to be evil. But he didn’t know what this was. Or at least refused to admit it to himself. Sakkem had a different kind of authority than the leaders he had met before. The other krogan watched him with rapture and admiration. His word was law, wisdom, the voice of the dead battlemasters of the past. He’d never met someone like Sakkem before.

“What should we do with the prisoners, battlemaster?” a young krogan asked.

Sakkem glanced over at the captives and tilted his head. There was a brief, but infinite silence as he pondered over their punishment.

“Take them to the salarian. The good doctor will take care of them.”

And as he heard the krogan speak, Garrus realized another thing. Wrex represented the dawn of a new era. The clan leader had united all the clans (or most of them; the others had died), established new rules. With him the krogan had a chance to flourish and adapt to the ways of the more civilized races in the galaxy. The krogan, thanks to Wrex, had a chance to survive and live for once a life of dignity. Sakkem was Tuchanka’s past, an evil spirit feeding on death and division. There was no negotiating with him. He had to be eliminated.

Garrus bowed his head in regret. He had failed again, but this time the blood of his team would be on his hands.

Sakkem’s voice shook him out of his thoughts. “But before, let’s enjoy the grand spectacle.”

Gunshots and explosions filled it, with screams from civilians acting as background voices. Smoke rose to the blue sky like arms full of prayers. There was no getting out for the civilians and soldiers fighting for survival amidst the chaos in the blocked outer ring. The noise – both from the bombs and the desperate screams of civilians trying to escape the city – reached the captives, filling the peaceful, blue sky with their unheard voices. The upper part of the com tower exploded, debris and fire falling like rain. Garrus hoped Calah had made it out.

The asari, Syrus and Garrus were the only ones still awake, the others had succumbed to the pain and exhaustion. Garrus’ eyes throbbed, his tongue felt like sandpaper. He drooled and shivered, weakness conquering his body. He slid to the floor with more elegance than expected, but didn’t close his eyes – not yet – was too afraid they would stay permanently closed if he surrendered. Beside him, he heard Tavis panting for breath, and the asari’s quiet sobs. Garrus surrendered and closed his eyes.

Meanwhile, Salva burned.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this done sooner than expected. Man, what a month.
> 
>  
> 
> Edit: thank you nathbella for pointing out the missing piece. For some reason that part didn't make it in. :-)  
> Merry Christmas!

The feast was already in full motion when Shepard arrived. People were sat at long tables and long benches. Some game tables had been set up in corners. There were several bars, the bartenders frantically going after each order and waiters rushing from table to table with tablets full of appetizers. All in all, what with the buffets placed on each corner, and the kitchen steaming with heat from afar, there was food to feed the entire galaxy.

Despite the joyous atmosphere, Shepard found it hard to relax. The noise certainly didn't help, nor did the stuffiness. Shepard stepped outside, chest raising as she took in a lungful of fresh air. The sun was giving the sky the last warm rays of the day, a yellow promise to return the next day. The dark sky above the bright setting sun announced a gentle night. From the backyard of the barracks she had a great view towards the main part of the city. Occasionally, someone would throw a firework into the sky. Laughter and music echoed through the decorated buildings. The wind carried the sounds and the smell of food to her, reminding her with an unpleasant twist of her stomach that she hadn't taken anything to her since her return. 

A human waitress offered her appetizers. Shepard gratefully took several of these salmon slices with butter on a lightly salted cracker. The first bite was heavenly. Swallowing it gave her more relief than water on a burn. She ate quickly, licking her fingers clean once she was done, then went on in search for more. She went after the waitress who had so kindly offered her the appetizers, watching as a small child slipped as it ran after its older friends, and burst into tears. Shepard couldn't help but smile fondly as the child's mother picked her up, patting her back while muttering soothing words to her daughter.

Shepard ate a lot, and it was good. Like a feast in paradise. The meat was juicy and as soft as butter. The vegetables tasted fresh and not at all like green food, though it was. Shepard tried out an exotic looking asari dish and she decided it was the best she had ever eaten. She finished her dinner with a bowl with a mountainous amount of ice-cream with a river-like flood of chocolate and strawberry sauce. 

As with anything enjoyable that is used or taken in excess, the aftermath was a rather different matter. The next half hour she spent slumped on a chair, too full to think or function like a proper human being. The sun had set already. A gentle breeze cooled her sweaty skin. Shepard felt bloated and heavy. She could roll down to the city like a ball and still feel full once she was there. 

The noise of the festivities in the barracks spread out in the gardens. It all felt like a summer night's dream; everything seemed to move so slowly.

Once she found herself nodding off on this uncomfortable chair, Shepard decided it was time to look around. After strolling outside for a while and enjoying the sleepy whispers of native Rubrum trees, she entered the barracks. The festivities were by then on full swing. Shepard saw Vega somewhere in the back playing cards with four others and flirting with a petite waitress. Shepard was about to join them, when a one-legged turian sitting next to a young human girl caught her attention.

"I'm getting myself more cake. You sure you don't want more?" the blond girl asked. Her own plate was empty. 

The turian male shook his head with a low rumble. "No..."

"Okay..." The girl stayed seated. “The guys over there were running bets as to how many enchiladas Sixtus could fit in his mouth without swallowing,” the girl said, leaning close.

“Who won?” the turian with orange clan markings asked quietly.

“Sixtus.”

The turian’s right mandible flicked slightly, but even Shepard could tell it was a forced smile, done to alleviate the girl’s worries. 

The girl, of course, saw right through him. Her smile slipped and stayed silent.

Shepard approached them and waved at the turian’s missing leg. “Reaper war?”

He shook his head and pointed at the girl sitting beside him. “Reaper war,” he said, then patted the stump above his knee. “This... was Salva.”

Shepard dragged a chair over, sat down and crossed her legs, sipping her drink in hope the action hid her shameless interest.

“You were there when the…”

“When the krogan took over? Yes,” the turian male grumbled. His brow plates shifted into a suspicious frown. “Who are you?”

She reached out a hand. “I’m Shepard.”

Both their eyes widened in recognition, and one after the other shook hands with her.  

The turian crossed his arms. "I'm Aprius." He nodded at the blond girl. "This is Roberta."

"Have you lived here for long?" Shepard asked, intent on changing the subject.

"For three years," Aprius answered. "The Hierarchy sent me here as an officer. I accepted so... here we are."

"Oh, so you've been here since the beginning."

"We watched the krogan settle, yes," Aprius said, subvocals cutting. "But I’ve met your husband.”

“You have?” Shepard inhaled sharply and leaned back, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. “Were you with him, when…”

“I was not,” he said. “I was in the hospital, when they tried to evacuate the city.” His mandibles shifted. “If I hadn’t been there we probably wouldn’t have made it to the ships in time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was the head of security in a block in the outer wall,” he explained. “We had been under attack the entire time. It was the closest block to the main gate, so of course the krogan tried everything. Vakarian came to make his own impression on the situation, when we were attacked again. I lost my leg that day.” Aprius’ mandibles tightened and his hand clasped the stump. The girl’s eyes watched him with concern. “The salarians… they invented these tiny bombs. They looked strange and it’s extremely easy to overlook them. We only noticed because our men started losing limbs at nothing.”

His mandibles flared slightly. “I wonder if they used them when they conquered Salva…”

“We spend the rest of the time in the hospital,” Roberta added quietly.

“Do you know what happened?” Shepard asked. “I heard it was a solid plan.”

He snorted. “Yeah, not solid enough. The entire thing was a mess before it even started.”

“What do you mean?”

Aprius mandibles twitched, then clicked tight to his jaws. “Wish I knew…” he mumbled. “The only soldiers who made it out where the ones who had no idea about the plan except to evacuate the civilians while the others placed the bombs and kept the krogan at bay.” His mandibles shook with the restrained growl in his subvocals. He said nothing more, so Roberta took over for him.

“We were on the second ship that left,” she explained. “We saw the explosions on the second block, before the outer wall blew up. The com tower was the last thing to explode.”

Shepard licked her lips. “So… everything that could go wrong went wrong, then…”

They both nodded grimly. “Yes,” Aprius said lowly.

“It was bad before,” he continued after a short silence. His eyes followed the joyous crowd. A drunk man stumbled backwards at a nasty shove by an annoyed asari. He hit a table with drinks and broke it. People around him, and the drunk man himself, laughed.

“Are you on the waiting list for a replacement leg?” Shepard inquired carefully.

He shrugged. “Yes, but that will take a while. There’s a lot of requests for a cloned limb, Commander.”

“Sure, but General Otur got a new arm the moment he lost it,” Roberta groused.

Aprius gave her a warning look. “We’ve talked about this already, Roberta.”

"I met him," Shepard said. "Was it during the attack on Carthar?”

Roberta nodded. “It was bad.”

“Really bad,” the turian agreed.

Shepard frowned lightly. "What happened?"

“The usual. Krogan and turians killing each other,” Roberta answered with a flippant shrug. “Only it was… really bad." 

"We were prepared for anything. You have to with these savages, but _ravagers_?"

Shepard looked up from her lap. A cold shudder ran down her spine.  _“What?”_

Aprius raised a brow plate. “Yeah, you didn’t know?”

Shepard shook her head to dispel the sudden numbness in her brain. 

“I really want to know how they did it,” Roberta said pensively. “I thought all the Reaper technology had been destroyed after the war.”

The turian lifted a shoulder. “Just because everyone says so, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

Shepard excused herself, needing suddenly fresh air. The two looked surprised at her abrupt exit, but let her go with more ‘thank you’ s and ‘enjoy’ s.

The latter was impossible. Especially because Shepard knew the ravagers Aprius and Roberta had talked about were not real ravagers, but a cruel invention from the salarians involving turian plates and the pliable skin of asari. The truth was always more terrible than the assumptions.

Anger boiled in her chest. Her hands clenched into fists. She needed to punch, she needed to break something.

"Hey, Shepard! Come look at this!"

Looking at the source of the voice, Shepard caught eye with James, who was waving at her from his table. The cards had been discarded for the moment. Solana sat beside him, omni-tool ready to use. 

"What is it?" the commander asked, tone conveying better than any words how little she wanted to know. 

"Solana here's got some vids about her childhood."

"Oh, no. No, I don't want to see them now," she said, shaking her head and turning to go. Vega, however, grabbed her by the arm and led her to the table. 

"It's nothing embarrassing," Solana assured her. "It's just vids about us doing boring things. But they were my mother's recordings so..."

Solana's omni-tool glowed as she selected a recording.

Garrus, not even three years old, looked up, stared right past the camera, and let out a squeal.

The people around Shepard cooed. 

"Look at Scars!" Vega laughed. "Never thought turians could be so small!"

_"Look at that butterfly, Garrus!"_

Garrus squeaked again, this time less excited and more curious. He turned to the side. His tiny, chubby hands were holding an odd-looking toy, a car perhaps. He took a step and almost stumbled. The butterfly fluttered past his short fringe and he looked up. His mandibles dropped as he stared at this strange creature. He let out a surprised squeak, then looked at his mother and father, squealing at them as if demanding an explanation. 

 _"It's a butterfly, Garrus,"_  the mother said. 

Her son let out another, shorter squeak as he pointed a chubby talon at the fluttering butterfly. His gaze turned back to the camera. Talus chuckled.

Eventually, Garrus lost interest in the butterfly and dropped the toy on the ground. He moved it back and forth, making purring noises, before picking it up and dropping it again. 

Talus' subvocals thrummed in warning and it was enough to make Garrus look up. The tiny turian lost interest in his toy and wobbled away, towards the flowers. The butterfly fluttered before him, almost teasing him with its curved wings. The little boy tried catching it, slipped and landed on his bottom with a dull 'thump'. 

 _"Oh."_  Garrus' mandibles dropped in surprise, tightened, then trembled as his subharmonics began to thrum like heavy rain.

 _"Oh oh,"_  Niva said. 

The recording faded with the first cry, and with it everything around Shepard. It was as if she'd turned deaf. She was faintly aware of the laughter and the cooing around her. Vega made a comment, drawing more laughter, and was soon topped by Solana's dual voice.

The walls moved on Shepard. They wanted to devour her. The floor opened up beneath her like a trap. Knowing it was time to leave, Shepard drew in a deep breath and walked away; and had the misfortune of running into Miranda Lawson. 

Of all people in this stupid galaxy it had to be her. 

"Shepard..."

Jane jerked her arm away with a vicious hiss. "Don't!" she snapped and stormed away. Her face was hot and her eyes brimmed with tears. She was furious and sad all at once. She wanted to cry and punch something at the same time. Her speed picked up a notch as she heard Miranda come after her. Never before had stubbornness bothered her so much as in this moment. She punched the elevator button brutally, then, when she realized there was no way she could hop on it before Miranda caught up with her, she took the stairs.

"You're not getting away from me that easily, Shepard!" Miranda called after her.

Shepard gritted her teeth, hand on the wall as she walked up the staircase. The door opened and closed again with an angry slam. Shepard exhaled deeply. Slid to her knees as silence finally allowed her to breathe. She swallowed thickly, and scrubbed a hand over her face. The shower she had taken before the feast had not washed away the feeling of dirt; in fact, she felt dirtier than before taking the shower.

"Shepard, open up."

The commander released a puff of air and stayed quiet.

"Don't play dumb, Shepard. It doesn't suit you."

"Go away!" she cried.

"Oh, we're playing this game then?"

Shepard's fist slammed on the floor. "I'm not playing, Miranda! If you get in I  _will_  throw you out!"

"And I will find a way to get in if you do that," the scientist replied. "It would be easier if you just let me in."

_"Fine..."_

Shepard opened the door.

“I want to talk to you,” Miranda said, calmly as always.

“Can’t it wait till tomorrow?” Shepard asked with a sigh.

Miranda brushed right past her. “No,” she said plainly, inspecting the messy room with a disapproving arch of her brows. She waved at the bed and sat down on the desk chair. “I’m here to comfort you.”

Shepard clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Well, you’re doing a great job,” she shot back as she sat down. She kept her eyes on the bed covers. They were boring; grey and smooth.

Her conversations with Miranda usually involved many breaks of uncomfortable silence. The one that followed was no exception.

Miranda let out a low sigh. “It’s late. I would like this to be over before the sun comes up.”

Shepard slammed her fist on the mattress. “What do you want from me?” she cried.

“I want you to  _talk!”_

The commander gritted her teeth. “I  _am_  talking,” she snapped.

Miranda pursed her lips. “Impressive. Any other things up your sleeve?”

“I have a knife.” The reply brought a smirk from Miranda.

“That would be a lot more interesting than what you’re doing now,” she said.

Shepard shot her a glare. She hoped it conveyed all the anger she felt. Miranda’s face softened inexplicably. It made Shepard only angrier.

“Leave,” she hissed, lips dripping with venom.

Miranda shook her head once. “No.”

Jane’s mouth opened, but her angry shout choked in her throat. The two women stared each other down. It was the first time Shepard was forced to look away.

“What do you want from me?” Shepard whispered. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Miranda stood up and walked over to her. She moved slowly, calmly, as if time had no meaning. She lowered herself next to Shepard, mattress dipping under her weight.

“Because you’ve been alone long enough,” she answered quietly. “I don’t think you should be alone now.”

Shepard’s sigh took the strength from her body. “I’m sorry…” she said, head in her hands.

“Don’t be,” Miranda replied gently. “None of this is your fault.”

“It’s just… It’s too much, Miranda…“

Miranda sighed and her hand touched her back. “I know…”

“I… I just want it to stop.”

“What do you want to stop?”

She shook her head, brushing loose hair strands off her face. “I don’t know… everything. Just… just this once, I wish I could simply… forget. Forget myself, forget everything that ever happened. I wish I wasn’t here.”

“And where would you rather be, Jane?”

That name pulled painfully at Shepard’s heartstrings. There was only one person who called her that.

Pressing a fist to her mouth suppressed the sob that threatened to spill her tears. “I wish I was with Garrus.”

Miranda sighed and was quiet for a few moments. “I understand. But you are not. And however much you wish you were with him, do you really think he’d feel better if you were with him?”

Shepard rubbed her eyes. “No…” she mumbled, shaking her head. She let out a heavy sigh. “Latus wants me to decide what our next step will be.”

“And what do you think?”

“I… the com tower has the priority. Without it communication is down and we cannot get in touch with the outside world. And we need – believe me, we _need_ reinforcements to win against Sakkem.”

“But…?”

“But… You’ve seen the screecher, Miranda. You know what it’s made off.”

Miranda sighed. “I do,” she whispered.

“Then, how can I turn my back on them? I… I cannot go to Salva in good conscience if there are still people being used for… for these monstrosities!”

Miranda continued to stroke her back, while Shepard calmed down. The two women were quiet throughout. But eventually, it had to end. Miranda drew back her hand and threw her luscious hair back. 

"What do you want to do, Shepard?"

Jane sighed. "I... I can't... I have to go to the science facility."

Miranda nodded and pulled out a datapad from her jacket and slung the bag she’d carried inside from her shoulder. "If you need any more proof, I've got a copy from the data we got from the screecher. That datapad I just gave you… it contains information on the screecher. It has the results of our investigation.” She shook her head. “You probably have a good guess what they tell, but the Primarch doesn’t. This and the bag… If you can’t convince him with your words, then maybe that will.”

Shepard wiped her nose with her sleeve. "And?"

"What do you want me to say? It's not good. Maelon's suspicions were correct. The plates are turian, fortified by a layer of metal, the asari skin works as an extra layer between the cybernetics and the armor."

"Any Reaper technology involved?"

She shook her head. "Aside from inspiration, no." She stood up and walked to the door. 

"What are you going do, Commander?" she asked, her hand on the handle. 

Shepard wasn't listening. Her brows were furrowed as she studied the data. Finally, she tightened her hand into a fist and slowly got to her feet. She lowered the datapad, her posture relaxed and her back straightened. 

"I will talk to Latus." 

Miranda nodded, unable to hide how pleased she was. "The Primarch is in his office, last I heard. And he’s not alone.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll talk to Latus alone, even if I have to throw Alina out myself.”  
  
*

Nothing could deter Shepard as she stormed through the city hall’s gate. The guards on watch stepped aside without a word. The receptionist stammered something about the Primarch being busy. Shepard ignored her. The only real obstacles between her and the turian leader was the elevator’s snail-like slowness and his asari guards blocking his door. Not even their menacing attire and weaponry scared her away. She knocked out both and kicked open the door.

“Latus!” she thundered and froze as the light unveiled the scene. “Uh…”

Latus and Liara were intimately intertwined. The young asari was sat on his lap, long legs tangling from the ledge of the seat. One of Latus’ arms was holding her tight against him, the other was under her shirt.

Both looked absolutely shocked at being caught; Liara more so than Latus. Perhaps he’d been in a similar situation before and was a lot more hardened in that sense than the asari on his lap.

Latus visibly deflated. “Commander, what a surprise.”

A silence, awkward unlike any other Shepard had ever experienced before, spread. She shifted on her feet and Latus removed his hand from under Liara’s shirt.

“Uhm…” Liara put her feet back on the ground and stood up on unsteady legs. Latus’ hands steadied her gently. “I think I should… yeah, I think I should leave now…”

Latus squeezed his fingers around her waist, making her squeal and jerk forward. Liara turned around and swapped his arm. “Stop it!” she laughed, a warm flush on her blue cheeks. He swapped her back with a low laugh.

Shepard rolled her eyes and stepped forward. “Okay, guys. Fun’s over. You can continue when I’m done.”

“You are right,” the Primarch said and pushed Liara gently forward.

The asari giggled as she left, her hand lingering for a moment longer on his. Shepard raised her eyebrows at her, her lips trembling with a suppressed smirk. Liara’s grin turned wry and she looked slightly guilty and embarrassed as she skipped past her friend. Shepard waited until she closed the door, before she turned to the turian behind the desk. She crossed her arms.

“So…”

He nodded, eyes still glowing from the heated encounter with Liara. His mandibles flared into a grin.

“Are you enjoying the celebration, Commander?”

She smiled. “Certainly not as much as you, Primarch.”

He barked out a laugh and gestured at a chair. “Please,” he said, “what can I do for you?”

Her mood turned like a light switch. “I wanted to talk to you about the next mission,” she said grimly, sitting down.

He folded her hands on his desk and sighed. "I see..."

“I know you want me to take the com tower back-”

"Without it, it will be impossible for us to win the war."

She raised a hand. “I  _know_ , but hear me out. There is something I kept out from the reports, because I couldn't trust they would be seen by the right people."

Latus looked like he didn't know what to ask first. "I... Explain, Commander."

"You've heard what people are saying about the salarians?"

He tilted his head. "About how they're using Reaper technology?" He huffed with disdain. "Rumors."

“I understand, but… Rumors are created for a reason.” Shepard took a deep breath, then continued. “I said the factory wasn’t abandoned, that it showed signs of having been occupied for a while. I feel I gave the impression that the fact it was occupied was a shock and the reason why the mission took so long to complete was because of this unforeseen change.” She slung off the Miranda’s bag from her stiff shoulder and dumped it on the desk. He reached out to take it, but again Shepard’s hand gesture made him wait.

“I knew we were going to be attacked, I never believed that the factory was abandoned,” she said. “I was right. We were attacked, but that wasn’t really the problem. No, the  _problem_ , Primarch, was the cybernetic _monster_ that walked out of the factory and starting firing at us!

“We defeated it of course,” she said with a flippant wave of her hand. She handed him Miranda’s datapad. “I had Miranda and Maelon analyze this thing. The results are in your hand, but if that doesn’t convince you of the urgency, Latus, then I suggest you take a look into the bag.”

Latus had turned on the datapad and scanned over the data displayed, while Shepard talked. His demeanor had darkened considerably as he turned page after page, and none of the information alleviated the dark weight in his heart. If anything, it just got heavier and a sickening void made his stomach turn.

Latus tore open the bag with panting breaths. He didn’t hear a word Shepard had said. He stilled when he saw the contents of the bag. Shepard watched him with sympathy.

Latus swallowed thickly, subharmonics hitching, as his trembling hands took out a white turian plate. He swallowed again, mandibles flaring as he took a deep intake of breath, then drawing tight to his jaw again.

Silence fell as both stared numbly at the white plate. Latus fingers stroke over the surface.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “Someone polished the plate.”

“Do you understand now why I want to go to the science facility, Sir?” Shepard asked slowly.

“They polished the… our plates are not naturally smooth,” Latus said. “The turian must’ve had his plates polished… it’s a vanity thing. Completely superficial. Common in people in the entertainment business.” He took a deep breath. “That or… the salarians polished the plates themselves, I don’t know. Hell, I don’t know anything.” He placed the plate back into the bag and, pushing the chair back, turned away to stand before the window.

“I didn’t know that,” Shepard said softly. “About the plates I mean. I never thought polishing one’s plates was a thing.”

“Oh it is, Commander,” the Primarch said with a sigh. It was such a sad sound, Shepard thought her heart would break if it wasn’t already. He turned to look at her, eyes dark and yet deep.

She had a feeling what he might say next. Fear and horror, they could motivate people in different ways; and she feared he wasn’t motivated the way she wanted him to be.

“I’ve made my decision, Primarch,” Shepard said firmly, before he could speak up. “I will rescue the prisoners from the science facility. Once I’ve done that, I will gladly take back Salva for you, but  _that’s_  the priority.”

“Commander, I don’t think-”

She raised a hand. “I’m sorry, but I don’t care what you or anybody else thinks. I’m doing this with your support or not. I would, however, appreciate it immensely if you did back me up on this.”

He gave her a long look. Finally, he heaved out a sigh. He seemed to have shrunk, his age catching up to him, and it was so unlike the image of the strong, captivating turian that Shepard blinked. He rubbed his foreplate.

“Shepard… sit. Please.”

She did.

“It occurred to me several times to try to rescue our people. But Shepard-” And here he reached forward to clasp her hand in his bony one. “You have no idea what you’re getting in to,” he said, his subvocals hitching in worry and helplessness. “My scouts, none of them returned from that horrible place. Only one managed to get close enough, but… he…

“It’s an evil place, Shepard. There are hundreds of guards only outside, I don’t want to imagine how many are waiting inside. I’ve stayed outside for a whole night to watch them from a safe distance. They kill everything - even the krogan and salarians who refuse to participate. I saw them throwing them into the river and watching them drown. There are no turians, Commander. No humans, no asari, no volus. Only salarians and krogan. Commander…”  

He squeezed her hands so tightly they hurt. He gazed deep into her eyes. “I urge you, Commander, for everything that’s worth saving, do not go there.  _Please.”_

Jane stared at him mutely for a while. The window was open, and she could hear the joyous fireworks crackling in the night sky. She drew her hands away from his grasp.

“Primarch….” Her breathing hitched, and she swallowed down all the disappointment she felt. She cleared her throat. “I – I cannot  _believe_  what you’re asking me to do.

“Your people are being  _tortured!_  And by what I’ve seen even in death they don’t get the peace they deserve! And you’re asking me – no! –  _urging_ me to look away?!”

She jumped to her feet. “I will do you a great favor and never mention what has transpired between us.  _You_  might be able to stand back, but I can’t and I won’t!” she yelled. “And if I were you I’d think about what you just ‘urged’ me to do, and I would call out the troops and let me lead them to save your people.”

She crossed her arms. Tilted her hips. “So, what is your answer? Can I count on your support or do I have to break a thousand laws and regulations to get things done?”

Latus was looking at his clasped hands. He stood up and quietly placed himself at the window.

Shepard scrubbed a hand over her scars. “Primarch… I understand the inner conflict. I’ve been there before, but I simply can’t… I refuse to turn my back on people who are suffering!”

She crossed her arms again. “So what is your decision? Will you stand in my way or do I have your full support?”

Latus had never looked this old when he finally turned back to her. He walked slowly back to his desk and sat down with a heavy sigh.

“I understand…” His voice faded into a silence Shepard dared not interrupt. She watched him with sympathy. If anyone knew how he felt, it was her; the weight of a decision as helpless as this one, where it didn’t matter, not really, because people would die regardless, was not one you could ever forget.

“I cannot stand in your way, Commander,” he finally answered. “Doing so would… it would kill me.” He smiled, subvocals trembling with sadness; and Shepard’s heart ached for him. “You are right,” he whispered.

He stood up so suddenly that the chair shrieked as it was pushed back. “You have my permission to go out and lead a rescue mission to the science facility. All resources will be at your disposal. My best generals will be at your service. Together we will come up with a plan, one that will keep the civilians here safe, and ensure success.”

Shepard’s eyes gleamed with determination and restrained battle fury. “When do you want me to leave?”

His eyes were as dark as the night outside, and the light that reflected in his eyes were like stars. “We cannot be too careful. We don’t know for certain what you can expect at your arrival. Chaos is too broad a term and doesn’t tell us much. We also can’t rely on the scanners and satellites, since the krogan have the com tower under control.” He took a deep breath and smiled wryly. “I’m not being the most optimistic, am I?”

Shepard smiled back and lifted a shoulder. “Reality sometimes isn’t,” she said softly. She sobered quickly. “I will succeed.”

Latus met her determined stare with his foreboding one. “You have little choice. Defeat will mean our death.”

“I will not fail, Primarch.”

He looked at her for a long minute. Unfazed, unmoving. His eyes told a hundred tales and Shepard could follow none, because she herself was drowning in the uncertainty that came before a high-risk mission.

Finally, his mandibles spread into a warm smile. He took a step towards her and offered his hand. She took it and he clasped it in his two.

“May the spirits guide you, Commander,” he said. “If anyone can succeed it’s you.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. 
> 
> A WARNING before you keep reading: Nothing is explicit, but there are many elements of violence one expects from a place where prisoners are being tortured. If there is anything you want me to tag, please tell me and I'll add it. I added the tag 'mentions of torture', because we don't see it happening, but the results of it.

General Areem smacked his tongue against his palate as he enjoyed the remaining spiciness of the red leaf. The battleworn turian with sharp clan markings a darker blue than the Vakarian's, was studying the field before them with Commander Shepard crouched between him and James Vega; and he too was thoroughly enjoying the leaves. Greedy as he was he had taken two at once. Shepard didn't understand what the fuss was all about. These Rubrum leaves were a major hit, consumed and enjoyed by poor and rich alike; only Shepard seemed to resist the leaves' sweet or spicy taste. 

"The scorch marks on the ground worry me," Areem commented. "The salarians have put landmines around the perimeter. That's why most of our scouts never made it back."

"Any idea how many they placed there?" Vega asked. 

Areem shook his head. "None. I can't even tell you how many have been detonated."

The two men turned to Shepard. 

"Commander?"

Shepard lifted a finger and they quieted. Her finger curled back on the binoculars. 

She hadn't moved from this position in ten minutes. Scouting was not her expertise, lying in wait like a hunter, like a sniper was not her forte; she lacked the patience for it and her body wasn't used to staying still for so long. 

The lay-out was simple. Barren fields on the outer ring, then a high fence with ten security outposts. Behind it were numerous huts, offices she thought, square and compact, and there were fifty of them. Some were larger, some were smaller, and all were guarded. In the center, a bit to the back stood the science facility. The prison gloomed from the distance. It was large and sturdy, its gate and windows, all barred, formed a grotesque, ghostly grimace. The facade was mostly grey, in some strategic places it was stained with blood and fire, but it showed signs of having once been a sterile white. The only sign of life was the smoke puffing out its three chimneys and the clueless guards. 

Vega inhaled sharply. "Shit, what's going on?"

Shepard followed his frown and zoomed in and what she saw made her empty stomach turn. She really should eat something but all this tension had taken her appetite. 

Two krogan were fighting a vicious battle. No gun shots were fired, but their omni blades and their fists collided against armor and skin with such fury and intent to kill it sent shivers down Shepard's spine. She lowered the binoculars just as the salarians joined in, tied the defeated krogan up and threw him into the river.

"You really should eat something, Commander," Areem said politely. "You can't fight a battle with an empty stomach." He gestured at Vega. "Hand her a leaf."

Shepard shook her head as Vega pushed the leaf satchel into her sweaty hand. 

"No, thanks," she said. 

Areem raised a brow plate. "Are you sure? They're good and they get rid of the hunger at least for a while."

She shook her head again. "Thanks, but no."

Vega's brows furrowed as he spit out his worn leaves and stuffed two more into his mouth. He let her be, probably because he wanted more for himself.

"Then at least have an energy bar," he insisted. 

Shepard sighed. "Fine!" She fished the bar out of a pocket and took a large bite out of it, making a show of chopping it with her teeth. 

“Now," she turned to Areem. "So far the biggest problem is getting through the fields, but the biggest threat is what’s inside the facility.”

"There aren't as many guards outside as I feared," Areem observed. "But there is a lot of coming and going between the science facility and the other building in front. And who knows what’s still inside."

"That has to be the administration building," Shepard said, pointing at the second largest building in front of the science facility. "They have made some changes since they took over. According to the plans that building used to have just two floors. They must have added the extension on the east for some reason or another."

"For the cantina, probably."

“Huh, I wonder what the food is like,” Vega mused.

The turian sighed. "The biggest threat will be the field ahead of us and then the science facility."

“Don’t forget those guard towers,” Vega pointed out.

“After the mines, those are the first things we have to remove. We can’t move forward that easily, when we’re being shot at from above.” Areem turned to Shepard.

“What are your orders, Commander?”

She looked at Areem. "We need to get close enough to remove the guard towers, and at the same time be careful around those mines. The scanners catch most of them, but they always miss one or two."

“And who knows what new weapons these salarians may have invented by now,” Areem added.

“Yes.” She paused, mind drifting off to the screechers. She was certain they would make their appearance sooner or later, and it scared her. They weren’t indestructible, but horror was a weapon of its own… Especially knowing what they were made of. Her eyes fixated on the science facility. What crimes, what horrors did those somber walls hold?

“I’ll take my team through the side entrance – the one on the west, the small one. You will continue with the battle. Start making your way through the main entrance once you’ve gotten control over the outside.

“Once we’re inside be prepared for _anything_ ,” she said.

Areem flicked a mandible and nodded. “Understood, Commander. And you need not worry about my men. I have warned my men of potential ravagers joining the battle. I didn't see it fit telling them what they are made of."

Vega and Shepard exchanged glances. 

"Why?" he asked. 

"There aren't many taboos in turian culture except for infanticide and desertion," Areem explained. "The greatest dishonor is to vandalize the dead. And these salarians here-" His mandibles fluttered as he inhaled sharply. "- have crossed that line."

Vega furrowed his brows. “But won’t they realize the difference when they see them?”

“They will. They might. But they will be too busy killing them to think about it.”

Shepard nodded in understanding. "But remember we're here to free the prisoners first and foremost. Don't lose sight of the mission."

He gave her a stern glance. "We won't. We are turians."

*

An hour after this talk, Shepard burst through the side entrance with endless fury and made her way inside like a hurricane. She milked the effect of surprise as long as she could. She could feel it wane.

To their surprise, the inside of the science facility was mostly abandoned. The few they encountered in the lobby, storage rooms and offices were removed quickly. It was odd and unnerving. The silence was thick, and yet it was loud. The scientists had evidently left their offices and labs in a hurry; and Shepard wondered, briefly, if any of them had been caught in the crossfire. She didn’t care much.

They raided everything – credits, data, thermal clips, and even some ration bars. But the consoles and computers were empty.

Solana pushed a computer off the desk. “They deleted everything,” she snarled.

Shepard fisted her hands and gnawed on her lower lip. “We need to hurry,” she said and began to move, “we can’t let them get away with this.”

They rushed from room to room, ran up the stair case to the first, then the second, and the third, but nothing; the logs were empty. It explained why the staff they killed put up little fight; they had finished what they had meant to do. Shepard could not forgive them for that.

By the time they reached the last floor Shepard was growing desperate. There were no signs of any prison cells; the labs they passed through were empty, and showed little to no sign of having been used much.

“This is the last room,” Shepard said as they moved swiftly and quietly down the corridor.

“It has to be the director’s office,” Solana said. “The plans mentioned something about it being on the last floor.”

Shepard kicked open the door and stopped so abruptly, James walked right into her.

“Hands in the air!” she barked, gun raised at eyelevel of the salarian. The others placed themselves at her sides, weapons aimed at him as well. To Shepard’s consternation, the salarian doctor – he had to be, with his white coat and the easiness with which he moved about – did not stop typing.

He raised a hand and said, “Moment. Almost done with the report.”

Miranda looked at Shepard in question, but she was too stunned to notice. Shepard grinded her teeth and took a step forward.

“Hands in the air,” she growled.

The salarian stopped, and looked up. He seemed to ponder her order. He nodded, and pressed a button.

“No!” the others cried out.

“Hands up, you asshole, or I’ll shoot,” Shepard groused.

The salarian doctor wiped his long-fingered hands on his coat and stood up. He raised his hands.

“Commander Shepard,” he said.

“And you are?”

“Doctor Migur Vyras. Head of Research Department.”

“Hand over the data,” Shepard said.

Vyras blinked. “What data?”

“All of it.”

“Need you to be more specific,” he said slowly, “Lots of data saved in our logs.”

Shepard huffed a breath and gripped her gun tighter. “I want _all_ of it.”

Vyras shook his head. “Would take hours.” He stared at her intently, bulbous eyes locked with hers. “Research experiments apply more to your interests.”

She felt Solana shift and take a deep breath. She lowered her gun and walked slowly toward him. The salarian and the human ended up so close they could feel each other’s breath. She met his gaze with her own murderous glare.

“Hand over the data.”

With a sigh Vyras turned and began to type again. He opened drawers, pulling out several datapads, then began to download the data onto them. He sat down again.

Silence followed as they waited. Shepard was reeling. She couldn’t remember when someone had been so calm while facing her threatening stance. It was off-putting and confusing. But most of all, it was _infuriating._

She held out her hand when the download was completed. Vyras handed them over to Miranda instead, then took seat again. Shepard was about to snap something at him, when Miranda asked, “When did you start using prisoners as test subjects?”

“From the very beginning,” Vyras answered. “A matter of use. Nothing worse than wasting resources.”

“Yeah, right,” Vega scoffed.

“So the screechers-”

“They’re actually called ‘Autonomous Wheeled Weapons’,” Miranda corrected.

James rolled his eyes, but Shepard kept her eyes trained on the salarian.

“Thank you for correcting,” he said to Miranda.

Miranda looked up. “No need to thank me,” she replied, voice so calm and tuneless, it was almost cold. “According to the data, the production of these screechers began about four months ago, but the first tests are dated to about seven months ago.”

“That’s when the science facility was conquered, right?” James observed.

“But so far the data fails to give sufficient explanation on the purpose of these… _experiments,_ ” Miranda continued.

Vyras shook his head. “If you look at the results on page -” He took a step toward her, but Shepard shoved him back.

“You keep your eyes on me!” she snapped.

The doctor looked like he wanted to argue, but finally obeyed. Shepard lowered her weapon again, and gestured him to continue.

“Initial experiments were necessary to develop the gas,” Vyras explained. “Enough turians to finish the product. Salarian scientists refused to cooperate… unfortunate… but even they were of use for progress-”

Shepard lifted a hand. “What do you mean ‘progress’?”

“He means that the salarians were necessary for the formula,” Miranda interjected. “The gas was first and foremost meant to harm turians since they make the majority of Sakkem’s enemies, but they needed to make sure the chemical wasn’t harmful to krogan and salarians.”

Solana clicked her mandibles. “You’re saying they used their _own people_ for these experiments?”

“Execution is a waste of resources. Traitors more useful as test subjects,” Vyras said, receiving a disgusted glare in return.

Miranda looked up with a frown. “Even if you exclude the development of the chemical weapon and the _screechers_ from the list, none of the following tests have any purpose!”

Vyras shook his head in tired exasperation. “Production of Autonomous Wheeled Weapons take up a lot of our resources: plates, asari skin, metal, batteries, oil…” He sighed deeply. “Production stopped after factory was destroyed. And many prisoners are needed for research of illnesses.”

“What kind?”

“For example, illnesses surrounding infertility and dementia. Many more included, of course.”

Shepard’s heart constricted. “You are wrong,” she hissed, the words slipping from her tongue without permission.

For the first time since their meeting, annoyance darkened the salarian’s features, cracking the nonchalant and superior mask he wore. “ _Wrong?”_ he spat. “There is no right and wrong.”

“ _Yes,_ there is.”

“ _No._ Progress is made by people who do ‘wrong’. Thanks to the prisoners we found a way to repurpose turian plates. We found a cure to POI _[Primary Ovary Insufficiency]_ , and made significant progress in a cure for a common muscle disease among asari.” He chuckled, but his mouth was twisted in disgust. “The only thing wrong here is your perspective, _Commander_.”

Blood thrummed in her ears. “You- you piece of shit,” Shepard snarled. “You _monster_ , you…”

“When out of arguments, revert back to insults. A common mistake among lesser minds,” the salarian said with a long-suffering sigh. “The data proves everything can be used to make progress.”

“’Use’? And what _use_ does _this_ have, doctor?” Miranda held up the datapad, showing a scan of a turian male with an iron bar through his mandibles. Solana gasped, hand reaching for her face.

“This isn’t science. This is torture.”

“Torture just another way of research,” Vyras concluded.

Shepard had enough. “Alright, I’m taking you in.”

“Ah…” The salarian doctor clasped his hands. “I see there was a misunderstanding.”

“Oh, I understood perfectly,” she gritted. “I’m taking you in. You need to answer for your crimes.”

“I don’t think so, Commander.” The doctor stood up again, and this time with a gun in his hand.

Vega stepped in front of Shepard, gun raised.

“Don’t!” she called out with a raised hand. “He can do whatever he wants, but he _will_ come with us!”

The salarian’s eyes narrowed and his grip on his gun didn’t waver. His finger tensed as it prepared to pull the trigger.

Shepard and the doctor spent a long time glaring at each other. By the time the second minute was drawing to an end, Shepard was growing impatient, but not restless.

“Go ahead,” she hissed, “Pull the trigger if you want, but you _are_ getting out of here alive.”

Glaring silence followed again and this time Shepard wasn’t getting restless but worried. The salarian doctor, for all the cruelty in his late work, had a great mind and she was sure he was mapping out an escape plan as they glared at each other. She nudged James with her elbow, then nodded toward the doctor.

“Take his gun. Check he hasn’t any… surprises up his sleeve,” she said.

Vega stepped tentatively forward, and only lowered his weapon once he’d taken the salarian’s and handed it over to Solana.

“Let’s see what you’ve got hidden in your pockets, doc.”

Shepard kept her eyes locked to the doctor’s as James patted him down. He retrieved a shot gun and a grenade, as well as several pencils and keys. He shook them in front of the salarian’s unblinking stare.

“Huh, I wonder what these are for,” James drawled and threw the keys at Solana, who caught them effortlessly. He continued, hands sliding up his arms and pulling out a cord from underneath the collar.

James frowned. “What-”

The doctor smirked. “Told you so.”

There was a beep, so faint they almost overheard it. Shepard cried out, heard the others do the same as she took cover. James was too slow and he stood too close to Vyras. The blast of the bomb threw him against the desk and he disappeared underneath the rubble of the furniture. The explosion shredded the salarian doctor to pieces. His flesh and insides splatted against every conceivable surface. Shepard gagged as blood hit the back of her neck, mixing with her sweat and her hair. Gore fell in sticky smudges on her face and back.

The horrifying moment lasted less than a second; then it was over. Silence fell again.

“Is everyone alright?” Shepard asked as she stood up.

Miranda made a disgusted sound as she wiped the salarian’s remains from her face. “Nothing an hour-long shower can’t fix.”

“An hour? I need at least a day if I ever want to feel clean again!” Solana, who had taken the least damage, walked over to James. He reached for her hand as stood up slowly.

“Since when do you get squeamish when getting dirty?” Shepard teased, making her way over to James to check on him. He was alright considering the circumstances. His body was covered in blood, but Shepard thought most of it belonged to Vyras.  “How badly are you hurt?”

He rubbed the back of his head with a groan. He accepted the rag that Sol gave him with a grateful nod and began to clean his face and neck. His nose was bleeding. “Medigel’s already kicked in, but…”

“Ribs broken?” Shepard asked.

He shook his head. Blood was dripping from a cut and his split lip. “No… Maybe. I don’t know… I don’t think so.” He gasped for breath and curled in on himself again. "I think so, but it’s nothing I can’t handle, Commander," he hurried to say.

Shepard scrubbed a hand over her face. “Can you keep going?”

“Yes. Just give me a minute.”

Shepard took Miranda aside, while they gave time for James to recover a bit. Solana began to loot the office.

“Thanks for… you know… asking the necessary questions,” she said.

Miranda, who was immersed in the reading of the datapad, hummed. “No need to thank me.”

“There is,” Shepard objected. “I should have asked the questions. I… I don’t understand why I didn’t.”

Miranda lowered the datapad with a sigh. “Because you shouldn’t be here in the first place, Shepard. This mission is incredibly personal to you, more so than the Reaper War, or the thing with the Collectors. I don’t want to know what you’ll do if it turns out Garrus didn’t make it.”

Shepard stiffened. “You doubt my professionalism?”

“I don’t, under normal circumstances. And these are not normal circumstances, even if the odds are better now than during the Reaper War.”

“You don’t know me,” Shepard said coldly. “I have lost so much more than a husband before, and it never stopped me from doing my duty.”

“As I said, under normal circumstances,” Miranda said. She turned off the datapad and turned fully to her. “I think you are reaching the end of your military career, Shepard, but that’s a conversation for another, better day.” She looked pointedly at Vega, who was now on his feet.

Shepard had many things to say, none of them nice. Time, however, was against them. The battle was still raging outside and though the turians were still going strong, the salarians and krogan were slowly regaining ground. They had to free the prisoners, while Areem made sure the science facility didn’t fall into enemy’s hands again. If they failed, then the battle was lost and the salarians would simply gain more test objects.

“I’m ready to head out and kick some ass, Commander,” Vega announced, craning his stiff neck. “Though I’m not looking forward to wearing the helmet.

“Where do we have to go anyway?” he asked. “Did the datapads say anythin’ about where the prisoners might be?”

Miranda shook her head. “These have about 200 pages each, and I’m not through the first one yet.”

Solana cleared her throat. “Shepard, I think I have something.” She waved the commander closer to the console. Its screen was slightly damaged, but it was not dead yet. Solana’s fingers flew over the keyboard with learned swiftness.

“Most of the data was deleted before we came in, but… here.”

Shepard’s eyes swept over the sentences, and narrowed. “Cells? I don’t remember seeing any on our way here…”

The turian nodded. “And I remember the plans of the building. There was no trace of a prison.”

They went quiet.

“Over 5000 people are supposed to be here,” Shepard said slowly. “Where in this building is there enough space to keep so many locked inside?”

Their eyes locked together. “The basement.”

Solana let out a curse which her translator failed to translate. “He was buying himself time.”

“And wasting ours,” said Vega. “I bet you my whole stipend that they’re removing all the evidence as we speak.”

Shepard commed General Areem. After several tries, the turian finally answered.

“ _C- mmand- r…”_ His voice disappeared, before the connection recovered.

“It was a distraction,” Shepard said without delay. “The prisoners aren’t here. They must be kept underground. I can’t think of anywhere else.”

_“That fits with our most recent discovery, Commander. We just found a passage that leads well below ground. I sent some of my scouts ahead.”_

“Good. We’re headed down right now,” she said, gesturing the others to follow her. “I’ll meet your men halfway.”

_“We won’t be able to communicate once you’re below ground, Commander. There is no signal.”_

Shepard pursed her lips. “Figures. In any case, I’ll meet you once this whole thing is over.”

_“Copy, Commander. Good luck.”_

*

The basement resembled a science facility more than the upper floors. It was chilly, sterile and the floor smoothly tiled. It was also dark, only the emergency lights were on.

“Christ…” James voice was a mere whisper, but in the oppressive silence it could have been a shout. “How far do you think…”

“No idea,” she said.

They walked deeper into the facility. On their way they passed several rooms, but they were all closed.

“It is so quiet…” Solana whispered, ducking her head as they crossed an archway.

And it was. Their steps echoed through the empty hallway. The way was long, so long the darkness ahead seemed to devour the emergency lights. The whole scenery reminded Shepard of a horror movie; the only thing they needed to complete the stereotype was to separate.

“We’re headed away from the facility, aren’t we?”

“Seems like it,” James murmured.

Their flashlights illuminated what the emergency lights could not. The drains moaned like a stormy wind.

Shepard brushed a gloved hand over a sign. “Lab 1,” she said and led the way.

They arrived. It was a large room, and so well-lit to the point it was glaring to their eyes. If the upper half of the facility had been empty, this room, one of the best equipped laboratories she’d ever seen, was even emptier.

“Dear God…” James whispered.

Seven dead people, prisoners based by their species, lay on tables and this whole thing reminded Shepard of a Cerberus facility.

“Shepard!” Miranda called out. “This one here is still alive!”

Shepard jumped to her side and prepared to apply medigel. The patient was an asari; she was naked and so skinny her bones turned her blue skin grey. Her face was the one of a woman in the height of her youth, but her green eyes were hollow and dim with feverish exhaustion.

Shepard put a hand on her cheek. Her skin was cold. The asari’s eyes regained a bit of life as they focused on her. They narrowed, then widened in recognition.

“It’s okay,” Shepard whispered and swallowed. “It’s okay, now. I’m here,” she whispered and her voice broke.

The asari held her gaze and in it Shepard saw intelligence and… _hope_. It shone from her eyes as death began to dim them, and it was hope that made her sigh as she let go.

Shepard sighed and drew away from the table. Miranda let out a sigh as well and closed the asari’s eyelids. Shepard wiped the wetness from her eyes and shook her head to clear her mind.

“Take all the data we need. DNA, fingerprints and pictures, anything that will help us identify the victims. If we haven’t found a list with the prisoners’ names so far then I doubt we ever will.”

Her team nodded quietly and went back to work. Shepard walked back to the corridor and went ahead to scout. The others joined her soon after. They were quiet as they moved swiftly ahead, but deep inside anger started to set their blood afire.

They knew an important room was before them by the large doors. There was an inactivated Iris-scan, and a large warning sign reminding the staff to wear gloves and masks at all times, plastered on one side of the gate.

They entered into a large hall. Once the heating room, it had been repurposed into a large operation room. It was divided into four open sectors, all separated by low, thin walls, numbered with red letters. Each sector had two operation tables, only one was unused. In their hurry the scientists had forgotten to put away their tools and to clean up the blood from their tables.

Shepard heard someone gag. Solana had touched a small pool of blood, only to entangle her long talons in blond hair strands. Vega stiffened and stayed still, an intent look on his face.

“What is it, Lieutenant?”

“I thought I’d heard…” James’ voice broke off. Shepard waited. He opened his mouth to speak, but the dull thrum of approaching footsteps was enough to send goosebumps down her back.

“Take cover!” she hissed and immediately jumped behind some stapled boxes. She looked around; Miranda was hidden in a corner, checking her shields and if her weapons had enough ammo, while Vega had taken cover behind a counter close to the middle of the operation room; Solana was hidden a few meters behind her and gave her a reassuring nod as the commander looked at her.

Shepard allowed herself a small smile, comforted that it was a Vakarian covering her six once again.

“Are they still there?” Solana whispered. Her voice was loud in their ears and James automatically shushed her, the sound of it echoing in the deserted room. He let out a Spanish curse and gritted his teeth as the words echoed as well.

The silence became unbearable. Shepard’s head ached as she fought with her next decision. Should they continue or wait? Had the footsteps been real? If they hadn’t imagined them what were the others, the salarians and krogan, waiting for?

“Commander?” Vega asked in a quiet, tense hush. “I can hear-”

He was right. There was a short ‘clank’ on the other side of the door. The team raised their weapons, the familiar click of the safety echoed.

Nothing happened.

“What the- Shepard?”

Shepard straightened, her gun ready in her hand as she rushed to where Vega was hiding.

“I noticed,” she whispered deceptively calm.

Green smoke was coming from under and over the door and began to spread in the lab with swirling tendrils. This was not good.

“Your helmets!” she ordered harshly. Shepard took a deep breath, squeezed James’ shoulder comfortingly, before returning to her previous spot. The fight was about to begin.

“Whatever lies behind that door, we have dealt with worse,” she spoke and reloaded.

“Yeah, what’s worse than a horde of husks and Reapers coming at you, right?” James shouted as the door crashed open and a swarm of armed salarian and krogan stormed inside.

Shepard shot twice and send threw the opponent with her biotics against the wall.

“It’s been too long since I’ve used the rifle!” Solana grunted as the butt of the rifle hit against her shoulder. She adjusted her grip, and shot again.

“What, your brother didn’t let you?”

“No! I was usually behind the lines, not in front of it!” she explained. “I was the brains, he the-”

“-muscle, yeah I get it!” Vega ducked as a salarian shot in his direction. He reciprocated in kind.

Miranda shred a krogan apart with a warp. In turn, her shields shattered underneath the rain of gunfire and she was forced to take cover again and let them regenerate.

Two krogan were left as the last salarian was tackled by Vega.

“Headshot!” Solana yelled as with one more shot the krogan’s shields were completely broken.

Shepard jumped from her cover and stormed toward the target. The krogan saw her coming. With a roar he ran toward her, ready to punch her into submission. But the commander ducked and head butted him, before slamming her gunpoint into his mouth and pulling the trigger. There was a loud splat and the brain of the krogan bled out of his body.

Turning to check on her friends, she found them all busy with fighting the last standing soldier. Solana shot again, so did Vega and the krogan crumbled to the floor in a lifeless heap.

Miranda was standing in front of the longest sector. It was at the right end. An enormous screen hang on the wall. Several radiographies and other images Shepard could not decipher were screened on that wall from a still active projector.

“Do you know what this is?” she asked her friend.

Miranda shook her head. “Based on the images alone…” she pointed at a diagram on her left-hand side. “This one here is about the flue… but the others…” She shook her head again. “I need more time to study them.”

“So, in other words, the salarians were basically making it up as they went along,” Shepard said dryly.

“I’m not so sure…” she answered slowly. “Nothing of these experiments show any sign of improvisation. I would say they were divided into groups, and each group-”

“- did what they wanted, yeah, I get it,” the commander grumbled and crossed her arms.

“Take everything with you. As soon as we’re back, you and Maelon are in charge of sorting this thing out,” she ordered.

*

They knew they had stepped foot in the prison by the change in the air. It was still dark. Few emergency lights flickered reluctantly. The ground was slippery, and the air was humid, as if the constructors had forgotten what proper isolation and ventilation was.

The worst thing, however, was the smell. Shepard knew it very well. It was the smell of corpses. Blood. Even the pain seemed to be part of the very air they breathed. Groans killed the silence, but if they belonged to the prisoners or drains was hard to tell.

A gasp was all the warning Shepard got, before she hit Solana’s back with a grunt. Her rebuke died in her throat.

This was a passage tomb, not an underground prison.

She had almost walked right past them. If not for Solana she wouldn’t have seen them.

They were so still. Like paintings they hung from the bricked walls. They were, all 23 bodies, a work of art on display for the others to fear. They were a warning. A promise of what would happen if any prisoner dared to escape or rebel. A sight the test objects were forced to see every time they were escorted to and from the laboratories.

There were asari, humans, mostly turians, but even some salarians. They were all horribly maimed; the latter more than the former. Turians whose mandibles were holding to their faces from threads; asari whose limbs had been twisted into horrible grimaces; humans without faces, or with skinned bodies; salarians without eyes…

What a horrible punishment – both for the deceased and the surviving.

Solana groaned and turned around. “I need to leave,” she stammered, stumbling blindly ahead.

James had to grab her by the arm, and she began to struggle.

Miranda shushed them. “I hear something!”

She was right. Their arrival seemed to have sparked a reaction. Voices. They rang loud and desperate through the tunnels. They were so many it was impossible to make out what they were saying.

The first cell they only noticed due to the intense smell, and the tiny gated window giving a look inside; everyone inside was dead.

The inmates of the second cell were very much alive, however. Two pairs of long, skinny arms were waving desperately through the barred window. And this time, their voices were distinct.

“Help!”

“We’re here! We’re _here!”_

Shepard took one of the bony hands – a turian hand – and it fled from her grasp with a gasp. She dared a look inside. As far as she could see there were only seven people inside. A turian, three humans and three asari from the looks of it.

She inhaled deeply, before taking off her helmet.

“I am Commander Shepard and we’re here to rescue you.”

Her voice echoed in the hallway; and the prisoners erupted in desperate cheers. The turian hand grasped hers in a tight grip.

“You need to get us out of here!” the turian male cried out. “They’ve been cleaning up the cells!”

Shepard patted his bony hand. “We will get you out of here, but you need to cooperate. I need you to stay calm.”

He did, and James went to work, while Miranda and Solana went ahead to scout the other cells.

“What’s your name?” she asked the turian softly.

“I’m Tavis,” the turian stammered, subvocals hitching. “Do- do you know me, Commander?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “I was with Commander Vakarian… your husband…”

Shepard’s eyes widened. “Garrus? Did you see him? Do you know what happened to him?”

Tavis shook his head and flinched, when James began to work on that door lock.

“No… I… We were separated very early… I don’t know anything, I don’t know where anyone is... I’m so sorry, Commander!”

She shushed him, stroking his hand gently. “Is anyone with you harmed?” she asked.

“Luna’s arm is broken,” he said and his throat rumbled in anger. “They broke it when she tried to escape…

“Arynn is hurt as well, but I don’t know what happened-”

“It was those damned salarians!” one of the asari cried, voice shrill, as she cradled the other. “They _did_ something to her!”

Shepard raised a hand when they began to cry all at once. “It’s okay, you will all be inspected, once we’re outside. But I need you to-”

Reverberating drums. Vega turned to Shepard. The flickering emergency lights casted a ghostly shadow over his helmet.

“Someone’s coming,” he said.

Tavis’ hand clawed around Shepard’s wrist and she had to hold it to keep him from tearing through her glove.

“Don’t leave me here!” he cried, subvocals shrill.

Shepard patted his hand, shushing him gently. “I won’t. Stay quiet. Stay quiet. I- I promise I won’t leave you…”

But what if she had no choice?

Miranda moved to her side. “Shepard…” she whispered, “They’re near.”

Shepard took a deep breath. She looked around for a hideout or an exit, but the dimness kept everything hidden in the dark cellar.

“Please don’t leave us here!”

Shepard looked behind her. The flickering lights casted thin shadows of arms waving from the grids. Miranda grasped Shepard’s frozen arm.

“Shepard,” she whispered. “We need…”

Shepard shook her hand away, but when she tried to walk to the other cells, Tavis let out a hoarse cry and yanked her arm back.

“Don’t -!”

By now, even Shepard could hear the approaching footsteps. So did the prisoners it seemed. A body threw itself against the door of Tavis’ prison cell, making the others inside cry and whimper.

_“Help us!”_

_“Don’t leave us here!”_

_“Oh God, help us!”_

Tavis yanked brutally on the grids. “Get me _out_ of here!”

The shouts for help were escalating. They reverberated through the slick walls in tune with the blinking lights. Their echoes drummed in Shepard’s head. The stench of blood and filth burned in her nostrils and eyes. She squeezed them shut. Tears dripped down her eyelashes. She was gasping for breath, but the air was too thick.

Miranda shook her. Her eyes came into view, grounding her against the dizziness. “Shepard! They’re almost here!”

Shepard gasped as her sight cleared suddenly. Her mind was clear. She grasped Tavis’ waving hands and held them still.

“Tell him to stop,” she ordered.

Tavis refocused quickly. He turned and let out a growl through his clenched teeth. Whoever had been throwing himself against the door stopped.

“Vega,” She nodded at the door.

The man gave a sharp nod and kicked the door open after several desperate tries. The prisoners immediately tried to flee, but Shepard and Vega held them back.

“Get back!” he hissed. “Get _back!”_

Shepard and her team slipped inside and they held the door closed. The prisoners, turians, asari and humans, pushed against them, desperate to taste freedom. They were naked and cold. Shepard caught a woman, thin and filthy, who almost slipped away between her and Solana.

Miranda sent them into a stasis with a suddenness that shocked even Shepard, but it worked, and they waited.

They heard them pass, but their footsteps echoed in the passageway behind the cell’s wall. Shepard’s shoulders dropped with relief. They heard a cell open. Screams filled the tunnels as the passing guard killed the inmates in that cell. The prisoners in Shepard’s cell were cowering in a corner, whimpering, praying. The shooting continued, but in a different cell. The screams had no end.

Shepard’s mind turned blank. Her eyes burned with rage. She kicked open the door and opened fire on the murderers. They reciprocated in kind, their own rage fueling their might. The bullets hit off her shields, until it flickered in overload, but Shepard didn’t care. She did not care at all.

Suddenly, it was over. The bodies lay on the ground, impossible to tell how many. Beside her, James and Solana were panting and they looked at her. They had participated too.

At an impatient hand gesture, the prisoners stumbled out with breathless whimpers.

They tried to keep the others silent, but it was impossible. The moment they heard the others walk freely in the hallway they started shouting for help too, hitting the walls and pushing against the bars.

Shepard and her team proceeded to open the cells. A flood of people, both aliens and humans, stormed out of them. The number seemed endless.

James looked at Shepard. “How are we getting them all out of here?”

Shepard helped a frail man up to his feet. Two asari volunteered to support him. Of all the prisoners, the humans were the most uncomfortable with their nudity. It was unfortunate that Shepard had nothing to cover them with. 

She turned to Tavis. “You don’t know the way out, don’t you?”

His mandibles clicked anxiously. He shook his head.

She shrugged. “Well, we need to go down this direction anyway.”

They continued to open cells as they walked through the tunneled prison. The air only got thicker the deeper they went, but the cells were getting fewer and the distance in between larger.

James, who had been leading the front, while Shepard coordinated the following, stopped abruptly. He waved at Shepard.

“What is it?” She noticed the narrow tunnel on their right.

He sighed. “We don’t have the time for a detour.”

“Lead the others this way,” she commanded. “At some point you’ll reach Areem’s rescue squad.”

Suddenly Tavis’ hand shot up to grip her arm. “No.”

Her brows furrowed. “What?”

“Commander, I – don’t go there…”

She brushed his hand away. “Explain why I shouldn’t go.”

“I…” His mandibles fluttered, then clicked tight to his face. He covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. “The screams I could hear from there, Commander!”

Shepard sighed. What else could she say? He hadn’t changed her mind.

“Tavis, you will follow Lieutenant Vega until you reach the other group. This is not up for discussion.”

He was trembling, but it was likely from exhaustion and fear. He saluted.

Vega didn’t look particularly happy about separating either. “Who are you taking with you, Commander?”

“I need a medic. Miranda’s the best suited for it.”

So their group split; the prisoners continued walking straight ahead, while Shepard’s team took the right path.

The deeper they entered the tunnel, the heavier Shepard’s fear. No sign of Garrus at all. She was growing anxious, desperate that they would never find him. Never had the possibility of his death been as likely as in this moment.

The walls, wet and dirty, groaned as they passed, but none of the cells were inhabited. They encountered bodies on their way; not as many as on Earth during the final battle, but enough to be scared of what was waiting to be seen. And by the look of the prisoners they’d freed so far, the salarians and krogan had all reason to hide. All victims showed signs of torture.

She stopped right between two cells. There was a moment of hesitation. Did she want to see what was inside? Shepard exhaled slowly and leaned her body against the door to look through the dust covered glass. Her eyes narrowed, uselessly trying to adjust to the darkness inside. She raised her omni-tool, hoping that it would lighten up the place. It didn’t. Not much at least, because the only thing she thought she recognized was a mound of pitch black.

“Shepard…”

Miranda stepped beside Shepard. The latter was about to tell her that the cell was empty, but the stiffness in Miranda’s shoulders made her hesitate.

“What is it?” she whispered, leaning in closer.

Miranda tapped on the window. “Someone’s inside.”

They fought to get the door open, and were surprised that it wasn’t locked. The first thing they noticed was the smell. The second the darkness. And last but not least, the turian male chained to the ground at the opposite end was revealed. 

Shepard froze as Miranda stepped over to the prisoner.

This wasn’t just anybody. It was her turian.

 _“Garrus!”_ she cried out, voice breaking at the last syllable. She jumped over to his side, afraid to touch, afraid to speak, afraid to have come too late.

Garrus’ chains rustled as he jerked his body forward. A desperate sound escaped his locked mouth as he finally, _finally_ saw a friendly face. He was pulling frantically, pained whines and grunts choking in his throat as he struggled against his chains.

Tears filled her eyes and she couldn’t restrain them. Her trembling hand touched his forehead and he jerked with a muzzled whine.

Miranda was running a scan on him. The light of her omni-tool revealed his state, and Shepard wished she was blind.

He was horribly beaten. His eyes, usually so blue, very bloodshot and glowed with fever. Touching his hide only affirmed the latter assumption. But worst of all was what he carried on his face. She had first thought it was a helmet, but it was not. The metal was rough and curved, with a small hatch were his mouth was. The device covered the entire lower half of his face. Blood dripped through the grids of the hatch as Garrus panted.

It was a muzzle.

“The image on the datapad makes more sense now,” Miranda muttered, voice hoarse.

Shepard's face shot up. “Shut up and help me get him out of here!” she screamed.

She was unable to do much while Miranda worked. The latter worked quickly, but efficiently. Shepard pressed her forehead against Garrus’. The wait was hard, especially for him. He struggled every time the chains were tugged on, and every movement of his face made him gag or grunt in pain.

"Shhh..." she whispered, tears dripping down her nose. "I'm here, Garrus. I'm here, love. I'm here..."

The chains rattled as they loosened. Garrus lurched forward. He stumbled blindly in the dark. Like a newborn foal he tried to stand, but his legs shook, and the muzzle made every movement unbearable.

"Garrus!" Shepard cried as he fell on his side. She and Miranda helped him up.

"Stop running!" Miranda snarled.

They gripped him by the arms. They led him out of the cell. Held him as they turned to the main tunnel.

"They are free," Shepard mumbled into his ear. His weakness made him heavy and hard to maneuver. "We freed the others, Garrus. It will all be okay now."

He shut his eyes and groaned, feet shuffling as they walked.

The voices of the prisoners were faint, but the closer they got to them the stronger they became. Shepard figured Garrus didn't want to be seen by them in this state. Unfortunately, there was little she could do about it. He would have to bear it, just like the others bore with their nudity.

"Garrus!" a woman shrieked and ran toward them.

It was Solana. Horror and relief battled in her widened eyes. She wanted to hug him tight, based on how her body swayed when she stopped before them.

"I can carry him," she said breathlessly, "let me carry him, please."

Miranda sighed and looked at Shepard. "You're the commander. You have to walk upfront."

Shepard bit her lip. She didn't want to let go of him. He was shaking, and panting, but the muzzle blocked all intake of air. Slowly, she unwound her arm around his body, waited until Solana had replaced her, before letting go.

"You can fix him, right?" she heard Sol whisper to Miranda.

The latter gave her an unreadable look. "Let's get him out of here first," she said.

She could have said there was no cure. It would have felt the same.

*

Daylight lapped at the walls. A sigh went through the tunnel. Surprisingly, the pace of the prisoners quickened, and soon they were embraced by the light of day. For a fleeting second, Shepard was happy. The warmth was a welcome contrast to the dark and the humidity in the underground prison. Then she looked up, and the illusion ended.

The administrative building was in ruins. The roof was spread on the ground in chunks. It smelled of fire. Empty thermal clips. Empty crates. Lifeless bodies and a screecher. There weren't many, thank God, but they were enough to dim the relief.

Areem approached Shepard with firm steps.

"What's the situation, General?" she asked lowly.

"Not good, but not too bad, either," he answered. "The priority is to get everyone out of here."

She nodded. "They are slow," she said.

"Well... we'll have to make the most of it," he sighed. "I'll give you the signal. Do _not_ look back, Commander."

Shepard's eyes caught Solana's. "I'm not sure I can do that, General," she whispered, after he turned away.

"Where's Miranda?" she asked her sister-in-law.

She adjusted her grip on her brother. "She went to assist someone," she said. "I think a man couldn't walk anymore or something." She pressed her mandible against bowed Garrus' head. He was barely with them. His eyes sharpened and glazed with scary regularity.

"I need you in position, Sol," she said to her.

Solana lowered her gaze, but nodded. Tavis volunteered to support him.

"What did they do to him?" he asked.

"What do you think?" Solana snapped.

By then everyone had gone to their positions. Several soldiers surrounded the shivering prisoners. Shepard stepped to the front, loaded her weapon, and took a deep breath. General Areem nodded, and waved a hand.

"Onward!" he roared.

The fight erupted around them the moment they began to march away from the battlefield. Biotics lifted up the barriers. Shots bounced of the biotic shields, and for a few minutes they were safe.

Shepard aimed upwards and fell a drone. They were still far away from the waiting medical assistance.

Suddenly, the salarians regrouped. The soldiers flanking the moving prisoners were the first victims, then the enemy began to kill off the others one by one. Horrified screams shattered, and Shepard was too far away to help! She yelled at James to lead the other prisoners on, and then she raced back. She ran and ran, shooting before she reached them, but by then over a hundred survivors were dead.

Shots were fired, but the battle was practically over. Death fouled the air. Five minutes later it was over. Just like that.

Silence fell, and it revealed the state of the place they were on. Complete destruction. Aliens were not responsible for this. The people who inhabited this planet were responsible.

It was unbelievable.

Shepard met General Areem halfway into the camp. The turian was injured, but not all blood was his. He nodded toward the surrendered.

Before them lay the bodies of the prisoners. They were piled on each other, eyes wide open, others closed, but none looked peaceful. Their bodies were grey with the past abuse, but Shepard found little comfort in knowing their suffering had ended. They had still suffered, and _they,_ the survivors, would continue to suffer.

“Commander, what do we do with them?” the turian’s subharmonics strained with deepest contempt.

Shepard felt nothing but fury and hatred. The spirit of this place had risen up and taken possession of then, so that they felt exactly the way this damned facility was.

In hindsight, no one could remember who had given the order. Wordlessly the turian army led the remaining scientists and soldiers to the nearest wall, which was the one that surrounded the administrative building. They lined the enemies up. They began to shift restlessly as they realized that they were only alive as long as it took for the others to reload their weapons. They uttered no complaint.

No one could tell later who shot first. Only one thing was certain: barely had the first person fired, did the others follow. Fire and heat rain upon the enemies. Some tried to flee. Others fell immediately. Some looked death in the eyes with straight backs and stony faces. Fact is, the turian army fired until their ammunition ran out. By then, no salarian or krogan within the facility was alive.

There was silence again. Heavy and as dirty as the ground they walked on. None of them felt any better. Everyone felt empty and sick. No shower, no spiritual confession could wash the blood or hatred from their hands and souls.

The silence followed them like shadows to the tanks now filled with the survivors. The silence ended there with the moans and whimpers and cries of the wounded. Others were too shocked, too traumatized. They sat quietly on the ground or seats, staring with glassy eyes at their recent memories.

Miranda walked up to Shepard the moment she saw the experienced commander approach. Her advances were rejected. She went back to consoling a trembling asari, who was, like the majority, naked as the day she was born. Miranda hesitated, before she began to undress. She gave most of her clothes to the asari and humans. Soon, the other soldiers began to follow her example, handing over their clothes to the naked survivors.

Shepard watched Miranda go from person to person, handing over the little they had for their well-being, trying her hardest to console those who needed it the most.

Sometimes she marveled how far Miranda had come. From the distanced, ruthless Cerberus agent, to a… well, Miranda as she was now. The owner of the reproductive facility in the rebuilding Citadel; the one who had helped her through the first days after the accident.

Solana was with Garrus and Tavis. The younger turian was sat against the hull. He was shivering violently. Only now did Shepard notice how thin he was. She’d never seen a skinny turian before. She reached into their tank, dragging out a thermal blanket. She draped the fabric over his body and watched as Tavis curled under it, letting out a keen.

“Thank you…” he whispered.

Garrus was asleep, or unconscious. At first, Jane thought he was dead and she’d almost died with him. Solana’s worried gaze had soothed those fears. Shepard knelt beside her lying husband, hand stroking his arm. The touch brought out a sigh from her. Oh, how had she missed this! Just touching him, even unconscious, injured _,_ _muzzled,_ was enough to lift the heaviest of her burdens. How often during these past months had she imagined how it would feel to hold him again! And now… reality had caught up with her in an unimaginable way.

“I already applied medigel on some of the injuries,” Solana said, subvocals hoarse. Her voice seemed intrusive in the silence around them. It seemed wrong. It was as if the air itself was repelling her voice.

Shepard nodded. Her hand was still stroking his arm. It moved down to his waist.

Solana’s mandibles tightened. “He’s so skinny…” she whispered, breath hitching in her throat.

Shepard nodded again. As awful as the sight was, she could not look away from Garrus’ face.

“Commander…”

She looked up, feeling as old as a mummy. It was the general. He looked terrible as well.

“We’ve done all we could do.” He swallowed and his mandibles tightened. “Please… Let us return to Prima…”

“Give the order, General.” She turned then to Tavis. She shook him cautiously. “Tavis?” When he looked up, she continued, “Do you know who I am?”

His mandibles shifted as if to talk, but he answered with a slow nod.

“Good. We need to get you into the tank. It’s warmer there and-”

Tavis began shaking again. He draped the blanket tighter over his body.

“Do- do you want to stay out here then?”

He gave another nod.

Shepard exhaled deeply and glanced over at Solana. “Solana will stay here with you, while I-”

“Uh, Commander?”

Shepard sighed as she turned to James. His armor was stained with blood. “Yes, Vega?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes not meeting hers. “Let me take the wheel.”

“Do it then,” she replied, inwardly grateful for the chance to stay outside with Garrus.

One by one, the tanks left behind the science facility. Twenty minutes and it was left deserted. The silence the turian army left behind was damning. Death smelled horribly, as did evil deeds.

Shepard did not look back once. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tamer and shorter chapter than the previous ones.

News of the mission’s success spread like a wildfire. The arrival of the survivors drew in large numbers of people who wanted to know if their loved ones were among them. The hospitals were so crowded that security was forced to intervene to implement order and facilitate the goings of the hospital staff.

The only reason Shepard didn’t lose sight of Garrus was because she and Solana carried him personally into the hospital and stayed with him until it was their turn.

They followed the nurse. The hallways were gracefully empty, but the patients’ rooms were not; hushed whispers meant to soothe were of little comfort to the whimpers and cries coming behind the closed doors. Once in a while they crossed paths with doctors and nurses. Not even two hours had passed since their return and they were already showing signs of fatigue.

Garrus proved to be less than cooperative when they entered the room. A switch seemed to have gone off in his head. He went meekly with them, until they reached the door. When he saw the nurses cleaning and preparing the tools for the medical inspection, he began to struggle.

The nurses grasped Garrus by the arms and legs and pushed him down on the bed.

"Hold still, sir."

"The doctor needs to inspect you. He can't do it if you don't- oomph!"

"If you don't stay calm, sir, we'll have to sedate you."

"He is disoriented and traumatized. Give him a little space," Miranda said calmly as she injected a needle through a vial of medication.

Miranda walked over to the struggling patient, needle full and ready. "It is just a small doses. Enough to keep you on your back."

"Commander, I recommend you wait outside," a nurse said kindly, leading both Shepard and Solana away from the patient's bed.

Shepard nodded. "Yes, okay, but..."

They stood at the door and watched the fight ensue. Garrus had managed to slip away from the nurses’ grasps and tried to climb off the bed. They had tried to put on a hospital gown on him, but in vain.

"Please don't hurt him..."

Garrus had been unconscious during the drive back to Prima, and groggy while they led him and the hundreds of survivors to the hospitals. He had been relatively calm, which was probably due to the pain from being muzzled, until Shepard and Solana sat him on the bed.

Shepard had never seen him react this way before. It broke her heart. She and Solana had tried to explain him the situation - _you are free; this is the hospital; the doctor..._ \- but he simply wouldn't listen. Miranda had said to get him to sit down for the medical inspection, a task that Shepard and Solana had found themselves unable to do; Garrus struggled against them, and they were unable to hold him down with force.

It was a pitiful sight. Miranda injected the sedative on an unplated patch of skin, while the nurses held him down. He struggled for a few moments, then stilled. He was not relaxed; the sedative paralyzed his body, but did not ease the tension.

Miranda looked down at him and nodded. She turned away, throwing the empty syringe into the bin, as Maelon took her place. The latex snapped against his skin as he slid the gloves on. He grabbed the stethoscope from the tablet with aligned tools the nurse had prepared and set to work.

"So, let's see what's wrong with you, uh..."

 _"Garrus_ ," Miranda said.

"Garrus," he added with a friendly smile, then put the resonator on Garrus' plated chest.

Solana and Shepard's hands met halfway, and held tight.

Maelon listened for a few moments, then shook his head. "Need a better one," he said, handing the stethoscope over to the assistant. "Plates keep me from listening to his heart beat." A nurse gave him a new one, and he repeated the action.

Meanwhile, Miranda sat at the desk, reading a datapad.

"Heartbeat normal under the circumstances," Maelon finally said. "Patient needs to calm down or he might have a seizure from the stress. I suggest doubling the dose."

The nurse nodded and scribbled it down on Garrus' medical file. Maelon looked down again to Garrus, whose eyes were staring wide into the salarian's.

"Hm... he does not recognize me. He is afraid of me," Maelon mused calmly. He continued checking his eyes with the ophthalmoscope.

"They are red," Solana spoke up suddenly.

"Yes," Maelon said as he turned away from the patient to update the nurse. "Exhaustion. A few good night’s sleep will help."

"But... the sedative..."

"The sedative is for keeping him calm," Miranda explained from her desk. "It would be impossible to examine him while he's in this state, and he will only wake up from this state of mind if he's slept a few nights on a comfortable bed."

Solana was fiddling with her fingers, a nervous gesture so much like Garrus that it made Shepard's stomach twist.

"So... he will be alright?"

"I don't see why not," Maelon replied, having continued with the medical examination. He gestured at the muzzle with a roaming finger. "That thing worries me though," he said, and he must have been speaking to Miranda, because she stood up from her chair to stand next to him. "Found anything in those datapads?"

"Not really," she answered curtly. "I think it would be best to make a full scan of his head."

Maelon's mouth thinned as he nodded. "Agreed. Also need samples. To see what the muzzle is made off."

"If he was allergic he would have showed a reaction by now," Miranda said.

"Metal poisoning?"

She gave him a look. "And what are his turian plates made of, _doctor?"_

"Then a different poisoning."

Miranda sighed, eyes slanting skywards. "Listen..."

Shepard and Solana exchanged a quiet look, but neither of them spoke up. They stayed where they were while the two scientists argued. Shepard's eyes moved back and forth, from medics to patient. Garrus' breathing had slowed slightly. His body lay rigid on the bed. It had left dark smudges, both blood and filth, on the sterile sheets. A cut on his leg was spreading blood on the spot it lay on. A nurse cleaned the wound, before applying medigel.

´"Show me the datapad," Maelon snapped at his counterpart. "You'll see. You'll see I'm right."

Shepard's jaw clenched. She and Solana stood there, idly, while they argued. Garrus lay still, staring up at the ceiling. Then suddenly, he made a sound, a gag or a choke, or both. He twisted his body to a sitting position, how was hard to tell, seeing as his body was convulsing.

Shepard and Solana jumped over to his side. They helped him sit up. Garrus slid to his knees, body bent almost in half, facing down. He heaved, and arched painfully. Solana's hand yanked open the tiny clasp on the front of his muzzle, and she gasped as blood and something else splattered on the floor.

"Help!" Shepard shouted. She took a fortifying breath, swallowed down the bile, and slid her fingers into the opening. She felt... well, she felt wetness, slime, sharp teeth; and the smooth, wet metal of the iron bar that went from one mandible to another. Jane grimaced, refusing to gag as she scooped out the fluids from Garrus's mouth. She shook the bluish goo from her hands. Solana turned away, covering her mouth.

"We need to wash him," Miranda said, grasping Shepard's arm and helping her up. She pointed at the mess on the floor, when the nurse returned. She nodded and got to work.

"You can't do anything right now," Miranda whispered into Shepard's ear. "Let us take care of him."

Shepard blinked away the wariness from her eyes. "But-"

"And you also have to meet Latus for the report," she continued and raised a brow. "Seriously, Shepard. There's _nothing_ you can do right now."

Solana lay a hand on her shoulder. Her mandibles stuck tightly to her face. Her blue eyes were laced with concern.

“Don’t worry,” she said, hand resting over her heart. “I’ll watch him.”

Shepard cast a glance over to her husband. The nurse was leading him to the bathroom. Blood trailed after them. She looked away.

“Okay.” She forced a smile at Solana. “Thank you. Really.”

*

Shepard had to wait ten long minutes until she was bid entrance to Latus’ office. The Primarch was sitting at his desk, hands clasped together. And he was not alone.

“General!” Shepard raised her brows in surprise and gave both Areem and Latus a respectful nod. “I thought you were at the hospital.”

General Areem nodded serenely. “I was headed in that direction, but a situation has arisen and it needs a… more delicate treatment.” He and Latus exchanged anxious glances.

Shepard frowned, already picturing at least a hundred different horrible types of ‘delicate’ situations. “What happened?”

Latus sighed and got up from his chair. “I think it’s best if you see it for yourself.”

Worried as she was, she figured the best option would be to follow him, though she yearned to be at Garrus’ side. Her thoughts kept returning to him, wondering how he was feeling (pretty bad, probably), what he was doing, if Solana was still with him or if the nurses and doctors had asked her to wait outside while they continued with the medical inspection.

To her surprise, the ‘situation’ was not in the building itself, but in the Security Center.

The drive there was uneventful, and quiet. They were allowed entry without much fuss once the Primarch showed his ID. She followed Latus and Areem into the elevator and, after an excruciatingly slow ride, they stepped out to a bunker. They walked down a long corridor, empty but for guards at every secured door. It reminded Shepard of the science facility; sterile, and quiet, and the walls keeping dark secrets hidden.

“What did you bring me here for, Primarch?” she demanded to know.

“You will see in a moment, Commander.” Neither his face nor his flanging voice betrayed his feelings.

The door they stood before was heavily secured as well. The guards stood motionless, while the iris scanner identified Latus as the Primarch. Next, Latus used an electronic key, and lastly a normal key. The door opened with a muffled hiss. Behind the entrance stood again a pair of turians. They could have been statues for their stillness. They didn’t even salute.

Otur waited for them in a different room. He stood in front of a one-way window, arms crossed, face twisted in controlled anger. He saluted his Primarch, nodded respectfully at Areem, and ignored Shepard. But she took it in stride. She was above such behavior, so she ignored him too.

Shepard looked through the window. Her eyes widened. A salarian sat chained to a rusty chair. There was no table, nor was there a washroom. There was only the salarian and the interrogator, a broad-shouldered asari.

“Where did he come from?” Shepard asked, looking at the Primarch as the asari lunged to throw another punch. She ignored the grunt of pain from the prisoner.

“He… surrendered right after our victory,” Areem said.

“And why wasn’t I told?”

“You were busy, Commander,” he replied with an apologetic flick of a mandible. He hesitated, then turned his gaze back to the prisoner. “Besides, I’m not sure why he surrendered. Why didn’t he just wait until we were gone? He could have just returned to Sakkem.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to go back,” Shepard mused.

Areem frowned. “But why? We’re going to kill him anyway, why would he surrender? What could he possibly gain from being captured?”

“He will be executed then?”

Otur crossed his arms. “Yes. The decision was unanimous.”

Shepard inclined her head lightly. “I understand.”

He huffed. “Do you? And here I always thought humans were averse to the death penalty.”

Her response was as cold as his, “Not all of us. Sometimes it’s necessary.”

Otur’s mandibles flared and his subharmonics thrummed with boiling anger, but Latus released a warning growl.

“If you could set aside your personal animosities for a moment, there are more urgent things to worry about.”

Shepard and Otur nodded.

Latus sighed. “Otur, any change?”

The turian started. His mandibles twitched. “No, sir. The salarian has not changed his lines since you left.”

 “I still don’t know why the salarian surrendered. Or why I spared him,” Areem spoke up.

“You spared him out of curiosity,” Otur said, subvocals dull. He lifted his shoulders. “Still, he is here. In the probably safest place in Prima, _the one city_ Sakkem cannot under any circumstances get a hold of. So, we better make the most of it.”

Latus gave him a wry look. “A female is less passive-aggressive than you, Otur.”

Shepard smirked into her hand, Areem was not as subtle; as hard as he tried to suppress his snicker the subvocals were more than clear. Otur shot him a glare.

Latus turned his back to the salarian, and focused on the people present in the small room. His mandibles were pulled tight, hands behind his back.

“Now that the science facility has been freed, we need to focus on reconquering Salva,” he said firmly. “We cannot delay this any longer. If we want to win this war, we need the comm tower in our control.” He looked at Shepard unblinkingly. “I am aware of your situation, Commander. I am very grateful to the sacrifices your husband and his squad have made for the cause, though it failed. I wish Garrus a swift recovery, but I need you fully functional. Are you capable of doing what needs to be done? Can I trust you to take control of this mission or should I look for somebody else?”

“Primarch, I’m offended you doubt me.” Shepard stopped and took a moment to calm down. “But yes, I am capable of doing the necessary to reconquer Salva. But I also have to warn you, Latus, I’m no butcher.”

“I don’t care what you do as long as you get the com tower working again.”

Otur couldn’t help but give a comment. “Try not to blow up the tower,” he said. “We need it working again.”

Shepard narrowed her brows at him, unaware of the subharmonic sighs coming from Areem and Latus.

“Too bad, _general,_ ” she replied in the same faux-sweet tone. “And here I was hoping for a good, old-fashioned explosion.”

Areem cleared his throat and stepped up, when Latus gave him permission to speak. “Sir, if you agree I would like to help Commander Shepard.”

Latus gave Otur an odd look. “Any comment on that, general?”

The turian flicked a mandible. “Only that the sooner we get the com tower back the better. Satah and other turian settlements have been increasingly under attack since the rescue of the prisoners.”

“Well, all the more the reason for Areem to help Shepard. She is, after all, a newcomer.” Latus’ eyes lit up. “In fact, I task you with the planning of the mission, Otur.”

“ _What?!”_ Shepard and Otur gasped out. Areem grumbled something and took a tentative step back.

“Of course, while Otur oversees the planning, you, Commander, can spend time with your husband. I’m sure he’ll need your support.”

Otur’s subvocals thrummed with discomfort. “Uh, sir… is that really a good-”

“Of course it is!” Latus replied. “My ideas are rarely bad. You have kept Cartas safe so far, and Shepard-” he chuckled. “- she has saved the galaxy.”

Shepard shifted slightly. “Sir-”

“I expect you to keep Areem and Shepard updated,” Latus said to Otur, who seemed as displeased as Shepard. “Consult them. It’s they who will lead the mission. I give you a week.”

The turian drew himself up to leave. “Now if you excuse me, it is time for me to visit the survivors and pay my respects, thank them for their sacrifices.”

Latus tilted his head, eyes fixed on Shepard. “Commander, I wonder if you wanted to share a drive to the hospital.”

Shepard’s face lit up with gratitude. She gave the other two a respectful nod (and Areem a smile) and followed the Primarch.

*

Two days passed since the rescue, yet time seemed to have come to a halt.

The problem with interludes is that no one really knows what to do with themselves. A type of restlessness spreads around. People pace from side to side, too impatient to sit and wait, too nervous to leave.

Shepard was no exception.

Shepard knew she needed to rest. The last thing she wanted was to rest. She wanted... she wanted Garrus. She wanted to fight.

She and Solana spent most of their time with Garrus. It was tiresome, especially because nothing seemed to happen, but to be away from him was inconceivable. Occasionally, Garrus stirred from sleep, only to be sedated again. Being near salarians, especially salarians with medical tools, made him nervous and fidgety. It was a side of him neither Shepard nor Solana had ever seen. It was terrifying. And very saddening.

At least Garrus recognized them.

The only reprieve of the torturous wait came in the shape of planning for the upcoming mission. Salva could not be postponed any longer. Only yesterday, a battered tank with soldiers had returned from a patrol to report an increase in 'krogan aggression'. _Aggression_ was a modest description: the tank had died before the walls of Prima, and only two of six soldiers had survived, and that only barely.

Shepard made sure Alina was never present during the meetings when she, Otur and Areem discussed the strategy, but it was obvious the asari knew what they were up to. Now if only Shepard knew how much Alina was aware of...

It was on the third day after the rescue of the prisoners that Shepard slept through the night. Solana had put her foot down and practically forced her to go to bed. She felt the difference in the lightness of her head, the easy way her body moved.

Her first stop was at Maelon’s. The lab he shared with Miranda was an organized mess. They didn’t have much. Only that they would have to perform surgery under full anesthesia to remove the muzzle.

“There wasn’t much information in the datapads about the procedure,” Miranda explained. “We only know the materials they used for the muzzle.”

“So, you don’t know how they attached it to his face?”

Miranda put down her pen. “We have theories,” she said slowly. “But we’ll know for certain when he get the ultra-scanner.”

Shepard raised a brow. “The ultra-scanner?”

“That’s what the nurses call it,” Maelon said with a light shrug. “Need it to look into through the muzzle.”

“It’s the only way we can see how the muzzle is attached to his face,” Miranda added helpfully. “Don’t expect any result until maybe tomorrow evening. We are currently under-staffed. And Garrus is unfortunately not the only one who needs help.”

Shepard rubbed her tired eyes. “Anything else?”

“Data shows scientists were studying the radioactive protection of turian plates, asari longevity and human adaptability. Very interesting subjects. I’m impressed by the…” Maelon’s voice faded into silence as he finally noticed the glare Shepard was sending his way. He cleared his throat. “Awful methods, of course. Unethical. My old professor would’ve-”

“ _Mordin_ would have killed them, like he almost killed you,” Shepard spat and waved at the glowing screens. “You have one job, Maelon. So do it.” She turned her back to him, but halted briefly as the door slid open. “Call me when you’ve found something.”

“Will do, Commander.”

Shepard didn’t hate Maelon, though by her behavior one might easily think she did. She just couldn’t forget what he had done on Tuchanka. It was unforgivable. And he had left that place without being brought to justice.

She knew from a childhood spent on the streets and working odd-jobs for a gang on Earth that without justice there could be no order, and order was necessary for prosperity. Maelon’s crimes may not have affected an entire society, and his research _did_ advance the making of the cure for the genophage, _but_ many people died. And they did not die peacefully, but under excruciating pain and misery.

Someone needed to be held accountable. Unfortunately nobody cared.

She found herself back in Garrus’ room. He was very still, upper body held up by many pillows to facilitate breathing.

Solana had gotten little rest. When Shepard entered the patient’s room, Solana was sat at her brother’s bedside, chin grazing her chest, as she slumbered. Shepard watched her for a moment. Her mandibles shifted with ever intake of breath, and flared lightly with ever exhale. It was very similar to Garrus’ sleep; only her subharmonics were lower.

The door fell shut as Shepard walked over to Solana. The turian jerked up with a grunt and shook the sleepiness away.

“Spirits…” she groaned, rubbing the back of her neck. “I fell asleep, didn’t I?”

Shepard nodded, eyes canting over to Garrus. He had not stirred. The muzzle looked as horrible as ever.

Solana gave her a concerned look. “What did Maelon say?”

Shepard huffed a laugh. “That it’s going to take a while until they can remove it.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged.

Solana’s mandibles flared in annoyance. “Whatever. Just remember to take me along for the next mission.”

Shepard’s lips tugged into a half-smile. “Craving the adventure?”

“More like I’m craving a fight.” She shook her head.

Shepard nodded and squeezed Solana’s arm. “Come on, go to bed. I’ll watch over him.”

Solana looked ready to argue. She had that same expression on her face that Garrus had when he felt like arguing. She sighed again and flicked a mandible in a rueful smile.

“You’re right, Shep,” she said, groaning as she stood up from the chair. “I feel as stiff as that chair. Should I bring a pillow when I’m back?”

Shepard, who had taken a seat by then, paused. “Yeah, maybe that’s for the best.”

Solana gave a curt nod, and closed the door after her.

With a sigh, Jane turned back to her husband, only to find out he was awake. His eyes, blue and glazed with the sedatives and the remnants of pain, met hers. They gentled; if he wasn’t impaired by the muzzle he would definitely have smiled at her.

Shepard exhaled slowly and squeezed his hand. “Garrus…”

She swallowed, a smile trembled on her lips. “I- I’m here. With you…”

Garrus breathed out a shaky sigh. His eyes flickered in pain when he shifted on the bed. But he didn’t look away. She heard him swallow, the roughness of his subharmonics as he flinched. The gratitude, the relief was evident; they glowed from the warmth of his expression. She smiled at him, tears prickling in her eyes. His thumb began a soft, weak caress on her softer hand, the touch as light as a breeze. A sudden upsurge of love threatened to topple Shepard over, but she could not care. She leaned down and pressed a wet kiss on his palm. It was not enough to convey how much she loved him. How much she had missed him.

He drew away from her grasp. He stroke his hand up her arm, the grip weak and yet present, and came to rest on Jane’s cheek. Garrus cupped her face fully, thumb tracing circles over the scars on her face. His eyes didn’t deviate from her face. Instead he re-familiarized himself with the face he loved the most. His warmth eased all tension from her body. She let out a sigh, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. She gave him another smile, a weak, small smile, but just as loving as his expression. She pressed another kiss on his palm, before leaning against the touch.

They stayed like that for a timeless while, resting in each other’s company. It was amazing how bearable suffering could be if one was only in the right company. He was not well, but he was alive, and that mattered the most.

He would recover. _They_ would recover.

Eventually, sleep took hold over Garrus. The hand against her cheek slackened, until it dropped onto the bed.

The muzzle… Every time she saw it she wanted to rip it off, but the fact that it would have done only more damage stopped that impulse. It was unnatural. It was wrong. Evil.

Shepard hoped the turians wouldn’t waste too much time interrogating the surrendered salarian and execute him soon.

She wasn’t a supporter of capital punishment, though she accepted that sometimes executing the criminal was necessary for a society to heal. The salarian who had surrendered, whatever his role had been, was not innocent. If he was he would have tried, begged them to spare him. Shepard had come by once to watch the rough interrogation and he had done no such thing. She could still hear him repeat ‘ _I do not recall_ ’ like a mantra, and it made her furious.

 _Someone_ had to pay. Doctor Vyras had escaped punishment, when he set off the bomb. Most of the scientists and guards in the science facility were dead. She couldn’t say for sure if anybody had fled the scene.

 _Sakkem_ needed to pay, but they couldn’t execute him until they had a conversation with Wrex and Victus.

A groan pushed past her lips and she covered her face in her hands. Just the thought of that political bullshit, the stupid negotiations and diplomacy that awaited her after the com tower was back online, was enough to make her head throb. She liked Wrex and Victus, but only separately. Never together. Which was funny, because of all the available candidates for their positions, Victus and Wrex were by far the most cooperative and moderate ones of their kind.

It wasn’t the time to think about that. She had other things to worry about.

Looking up again, her expression relaxed. Muzzled or not, she still loved him dearly. Her Garrus. She couldn’t wait to see him up on his feet again. She missed his voice, drawling, teasing, tripping over his own words, when he got nervous around her. She smiled. They’d been together for over five years now, and though their love had most definitely matured, there were times where they couldn’t help but act like a fresh couple.

“I love you, big guy,” Jane whispered, pressing a kiss on his slack hand.

Footsteps approached her room. Shepard squeezed her eyes shut. She knew what was coming.

“Shepard…”

“Can’t it wait, Liara? I’d like to be with Garrus for a while.”

Liara shook her head. “No, it really can’t. Lat- the Primarch sent me to get you. Satah is under attack, and I’m afraid we are losing the fight.”

The chair shrieked as Shepard jumped to her feet. Her face was pale. Wide-eyed she stared at her friend.

“What?”

Liara nodded, stepping aside, when Shepard walked out.

“Latus just received the message. He’s mobilizing the troops as we speak.”

They practically ran out of the hospital, headed straight to the barracks. It seemed to be a world away from the city; the latter continued to move unfazed; the news had not yet reached the civilians. The barracks, however, were loud and full of chaotic order. Everyone was awake and about, running, following orders as they prepared to move out.

“When did the attack start?” Shepard asked, as she took up her weapons. She checked her armor for any unseen damage.

“Yesterday.”

Shepard froze mid-step. People bumped into her, but she did not care. “Why did we just find out now?” she cried out.

Liara shrugged helplessly. “Communications are down, Shepard,” she replied. “They had to send messengers. And they just arrived today.”

Shepard scrubbed a hand through her hair. Her mind was reeling, before it cleared.

“Alright,” she said firmly. “Liara, I need you to get Sol and Vega. Tell them to meet me at the exit.”

Liara ran. “Yes, Commander!”

Shepard turned toward the exit, when a large hand drew her to an abrupt halt. It was Tavis. And he did not look happy _or_ healthy.

“Commander! They won’t let me join you!” he cried, subharmonics shrill.

Shepard sighed. This conversation couldn’t be happening at a worse moment. “Tavis-”

“No, please! Hear me out, ma’am!” he said. “I already received the clearance from the hospital. I am fine, and ready to join the troops to save Satah.”

She sighed again and gave him a thorough once-over. It was true in part; there was no outward sign of him being unhealthy or injured in any way. But he was thin, and the malnourishment had left a visible mark on his body; his teeth were yellower than the norm, his hide was almost lax. There was also an anxious twitch in his fumbling that Shepard did not like at all.

He was staring at her as intently as she was. “I know what you’re going to say, ma’am. I know I’m not a hundred percent fit again, but I promise I won’t disappoint. I’m fine. You can’t leave me behind like this. It’s shameful and-”

She raised a hand and he went completely still. “You are needed here,” she said kindly, but without allowing any counter-argument. “There are many who have suffered like you, and they need someone to stand by their side. Garrus-” She swallowed, before her voice could catch in her throat. “He’ll be relieved to see you,” she added. “I don’t think he knows you are alive.”

Tavis pondered it for a brief moment. His grey eyes looked deeply troubled. A reel of memories, all dark and painful, flashed before his eyes. And Shepard, as familiar as she was with the pain that comes from a hard life, saw it.

Finally, he inhaled shakily, and straightened his shoulders. He didn’t say anything, he simply nodded, and left. 

Vega was waiting for her leaning against the tank when she came in running.

“What’s the situation?” he asked, holding the door open for her.

Shepard climbed in and took a seat behind the wheel. “Satah is under attack, and I’m afraid it’s going to be a losing battle.”

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. There were too many things to do and my motivation decided to go on vacation.

Satah was under siege.

Numerous shuttles disappeared with the evacuees as Vega brought their tank to a halt. Her teammates looked at her questioningly, but Shepard had no answer for them. There was little they could do from here, and Areem had not joined the army yet, having stayed back longer to talk war matters with the Primarch.

Vega had to voice his displeasure. “The Primarch couldn’t have picked a better moment to talk to him?”

Shepard licked her chapped lips and looked around, noting with a surprisingly clear, unaffected mind the battlefield around her.

“We’re wasting time.” She gestured at the cleared road before them. “Drive. The sooner we get to the other end the better.”

“Surely they will have broken through the wall already?” said Liara. She didn’t react when James drove over a mech on their way.

Shepard hummed in agreement. “Nothing we can’t fix if we shut down the leak,” she said.

Solana’s mandibles were drawn tight to her face. “Do you have a plan, Commander?”

“It’s hard to make plans without having the information right before you,” said Shepard and rubbed her forehead. “The damage at the wall has to be extensive for the smoke to be so high.”

“I wonder when they managed to break through…” Liara mused.

“Either way, it’ll be hard to fix the leak while being shot from all sides, all the time… ” Her fingers drummed relentlessly on her leg. “Shit, this is going to be rough.”

“If we just had the com tower running again…” Solana sighed.

Their way was blocked by a fallen building. There was no way around it, they had to cover the rest of the distance on foot. The noise of the battle left the air ringing. The explosions made the city tremble; its survival was at stake.

They jumped down and their landing was welcomed with well-aimed gunfire. Vega grunted as the blast threw him against the wall. He recovered quickly and ducked.

Shepard went on automatic mode; gunfire grazed her armor, nothing hit her body. The screams were dulled; the smells sharp. She opened her mouth to breathe in and out. She fired her gun until the clip was empty, reloaded and started over again. Step by step, they made their way forward. The wall was scorched, the smooth surface was covered with splinters and grates. The turians jumped out of a tank as it was hit and destroyed. The dust and smoke dissipated, and behold! The gate.

 _“Que te parió_ …” Vega muttered behind her.  

Shepard needed no translator to understand.

“Spirits…” whispered Solana, subharmonics loud and shrill.

She had no time to admire the decimated remains of the gate. She was approached by the leader of this last resistance. A turian. Titus.

“Do you remember me, Commander?” he asked, reaching out to shake her hand.

She nodded, mouth stiff. “Of course I do,” she said. “You got us to Prima in the first place.”

His mandible flicked in a weak attempt at a smile. “I wish the circumstances of our meeting was… well, more optimistic.”

Shepard turned back to the heart of the fight. “I have to say… your messenger said nothing about the state of your wall.”

Titus shook his head. “I’m afraid this happened a few hours after we sent the messenger. We’d hoped you’d get it sooner, but… I guess better late than never?”

She hummed pensively.

“How are we getting this shut?” James asked. “Looks like we need a new wall…”

He was right. The remains of the gate lay scattered around in the area before it. Otherwise, there was a whole chunk of the wall missing. The setting sun was moving in its direction. Soon it would shine right through it, a square of light between long squares of shadows.

“We can’t hold it for long,” Titus said dully. “One more blast and…”

Shepard ordered Solana to throw a grenade at a group of mech. They went down with the blast.

“Let’s focus on the now!” said she. “General Areem has stayed behind to discuss battle strategy with the Primarch. I expect they will send back up soon.”

Titus stayed silent.

Shepard licked her chapped lips, tasting thermal clips and blood. "How about we let the krogan approach and blow up their tanks before they can get fully in? It’s not going to fix it, but-"

He cocked his head. "But it might buy as some time… That... might work. At least, I'm desperate enough to try. How do you plan on doing that?"

"Easy. We fight them. Gather everyone who has explosives, anything that can destroy – one… two… - six to seven tanks. They can't get through the wall, they _need_ to be hit before they pass, okay?"

He saluted. "Yes, Commander!"

Shepard nodded and reloaded her gun. Her blood pumped fury through her veins. "Good. Get your men ready.”

Titus had gathered a small group of turians, and put them up to speed. Liara nudged her with her elbow. Her blue face was paled, her eyes were wide.

“Uh… Shepard…” she swallowed and pointed at the moving krogan horde.

Shepard looked and she did not like what she saw. “Shit…” she slammed her fist on the nearest crate.

“It’s going to break right through whatever we put in his way,” James observed.

“We killed one before, we can do it again!” Solana said, eyes glued at the screecher stumbling behind the approaching tanks.

“Yeah, but we had a tank before! And the salarians and krogan turned against it!” James stomped his foot on the ground. “Shit, we can’t hold this city!”

“I’m sure we’ll find a way,” Liara said. “We just have to hold on until Areem-”

“Quiet, all of you!” Shepard ordered. “I want to hear no complaints, understood?”

They didn’t even dare to nod.

“Good,” she growled. “Now that it’s settled, I want you to focus on the task before us. And -”

"Commander Shepard, waiting for you to give the order."

She turned to the turians, hand on her hip, the other holding her rifle. "Alright..." she muttered to herself and, casting one glance over her shoulder, she said,

"Listen up! We're in a tough spot here. There's only victory or defeat now. The krogan are on their way. Seven tanks at least, I saw several mechs following them, _and_ they have a screecher." A distraught, subharmonic rumble interrupted her speech. Shepard quieted them all with a glare.

"Stay _alert._ Don't provoke the screecher. The goal is to let the krogan as close to the gate as possible, and then -" she nodded at the soldiers with the explosives, "- blow them up. Let's block the gate with their own tanks. We can’t fix the wall alone, at least until we get enough back up to drive them out, but we will hold this city!"

Shepard huffed a fortifying breath. “Get ready!”

Suddenly, the tanks stopped, as did the screecher. The gunfire halted, and the fields cleared. Minutes passed. Stillness spread. The sunset filled the sky in orange hues.

Titus risked a look and his face darkened. "What are they waiting for?"

Shepard gestured him to wait.

"Do you think they realized what our plan is?" whispered Liara.

She shook her head. "They're waiting for something..." She glared at the screecher. She had an inkling the wait had something to do with it.

"Be prepared!" she said to the others. "Anytime and they'll start-"

"Commander Shepard!" The krogan's voice echoed and rang loud and heavy in their ears. "Leave the city or join their destruction!"

Shepard froze, startled. How did they- How did they know she was here?

_Alina._

Shepard balled her fists. She noticed Liara come to the same conclusion, because the air around her flickered blue. Her eyes met with Titus’. He seemed concerned, alarmed.

"They'll kill you anyway," he said.

She knew he was right, not that the truth being different would have made her desert them. Then and there, she decided the first thing she would do when she returned to Prima was to throw Alina out of a window. And then throw her in prison. And damn the consequences.

Her gun clicked. Only four thermal clips left, so better to make them count.

"Let's show them what we've got."

It was as if the enemy had heard her, because the tanks began to roll forward again. The machine gun rattled behind Shepard; she herself was busy destroying the mech approaching the gate.

The screecher was a constant threat. It fired every now and then at the wall, making it rain scorched rock. Then suddenly it stopped and fell into an apparent recharge.

"Waiting for the order, Commander!" Titus shouted. His shields flickered and he dove down to let them recharge. A turian before Shepard died.

Shepard watched the tanks advance, coming nearer and nearer.

"Almost...

"Ready... _FIRE!"_

The first explosive hit the first tank. Too early, but the effect was immediate, and threw the nearest one beside it a few meters off course. Shepard’s lips thinned. Titus snarled something unintelligibly at the responsible soldier. The third tank was hit just on time. Its wheels stopped turning, and the turians shot all inmates.

“Keep going!” Titus shouted.

The com in Shepard’s ear crackled. She had gotten used to it being silent, so that for a moment she thought it was just another sound of the battle. It was not. Her heart leaped.

_“C-mander!”_

“Copy, Areem!” she shouted, as if he could hear her better that way. She crouched low behind her cover.

The signal was bad enough she missed the few words. _“- way. Cr- rrg – out!”_

She shook her head. “Repeat! Areem-”

The next explosive failed to hit the mark, but the other sent the last tank flying. The cheers died at the sound of a cold, metallic screech.

“Take cover!” someone shouted. Shepard had no time to think. Turning around with mouth agape, she saw the screecher leap forward like a lion. The screecher burst through the wall, firing blindly around and hitting regardless. The wall burst. Everyone ran for cover, away from the falling rubble. The mindless shooting from the monstrosity set many things on fire. Soldiers were dying left and right, until no one knew where was up and down.

Shepard cried out as the door of a tank slammed against their cover. There was only noise and heat. She didn't know what was happening. She hit the ground, was dragged along a few meters, denting, scratching her armor. The screecher continued to roar his soulless tune.

-

_“SHEPARD!”_

Shepard jerked up with a gasp. She shook her head. Her ears were ringing. She could hear voices shouting intently at her.

Areem.

Shepard coughed dust from her lungs. “Y-yes, sir?”

_“Commander! You have to ge-e-e-”_

She shook her head to dispel the dizziness. “W-what?”

_“GET OUT OF THERE! NOW!”_

An alien hand grasped her by the arm and dragged her away. Shepard cried out hoarsely, grasping the alien by the elbow and blindly pushing it down on the ground.

"Shepard! It's me, it's me!"

She gasped for breath again, this time out of untimely relief. She scrabbled back from Solana.

"Where were you?"

"Unconscious. It's a miracle I didn't get killed," Solana said and hauled her up.

Shepard rubbed the back of her neck, groaning as her glove came away with blood. “Where are James and-”

Their moment of reprieve came to an abrupt end. The screecher’s threat faded into the background, the increasing gunfire from the krogan paused in confusion. A siren reverberated through the entire city and across the desolate surroundings. It came from outside. Up in the sky. The sound resembled a howl, sound pitching low at the end, before returning to its high-pitched cry.

Solana was panting. Her blue eyes were large and her mandibles slack in fear. She gripped Shepard’s arm and ran. Shepard did not understand what that alarm was for (except, of course, to alert), but it was no coincidence that Areem had called her to get out. She shook her arm free from the turian’s grasp, and ran with her.

“Need to get out, need to get out, need to get out…” Solana’s mumblings were driving Shepard crazy. For some reason she was less concerned about the shrieking alarm, than the screecher wreaking havoc behind them.

They ran past burning buildings and dead bodies and blocked streets. They could see a tank, unharmed mostly, and picked up the speed. There were shots being fired everywhere, something seemed to blow up every minute.

"We're not going to make it!" Solana shouted.

“What do you mean?”

“The hastatim, Shepard!”

The screecher made a building implode and the two women had to run for cover. When Shepard opened her eyes again, the tank was gone.

She had no idea where they were headed. She looked around, heart in her throat.

“Shit, do you know where-?”

“No,” said Solana with shaky subharmonics.

“Never mind.” She tugged on Sol’s arm and together they continued to make their way out. “Come on, we’ve got to make a run for it.”

Her friend let out a shaky laugh and rolled her shoulders. “Lead the way, Commander.”

They didn’t get too far, before they were ambushed by a group of krogan. They were armed to the teeth, and if that didn’t work they still had four tanks to kill Shepard and Solana.

Shepard made a move to take cover and fight. Solana, however, dragged her along, shields shimmering with every shot that failed to kill.

“We have no time, Shepard!” she screamed. “They’ll be here any minute!”

A tank fired its canon. It missed, but barely. Instead it burst apart the shop behind Shepard. Glass shards clunked against their armor, caught in Shepard’s hair. The two fired back, but they were trapped, and their ammo was running out fast. Shepard herself had barely any medigel left.

The alarm was still ringing.

“Tell me, Sol,” gasped Shepard as she waited for her shields to recharge. “What happens after the alarms stops?”

“If _we’re_ here when the alarm stops?” The turian gasped for breath. She cocked her head to the side. “Well, then I suppose we’ll die with these krogan.”

Shepard’s eyes narrowed. She wiped the sweat dripping down her brows, and threw a krogan back with her biotics. “Yeah, I figured that on my own, but-”

The ground shook, throwing both women off, as a large, rogue tank rammed another. It fired at the others. The enemy retaliated. The door to the tank burst open and Liara – Shepard gasped in relief – leaned out.

“Come on!” she shouted.

Shepard pushed Sol forward, giving her cover as the turian ran toward Liara. The asari shielded herself with her biotics and held her ground as Shepard made a run for it.

The driver – it was Titus – didn’t wait until the door was shut. He accelerated until the tank groaned as he pushed it to its limits. The tank was stuffed full with soldiers, and yet they were only ten; after all, turians occupied a lot more space than humans and asari.

They speeded through the ruins of the city. Every well-aimed shot made them jump. It smelt of fire and smoke.

The alarm stopped. It left behind deafening silence. Solana’s breath hitched in her chest.

“We’re almost there!” Titus growled.

A bomb fell on Satah. Light blinded Shepard as she looked back. The noise reached them after the heat, and just then the second bomb fell. They saw shuttles racing past the burning city, dropping one bomb after the other. The screechers were the only ones with the power to resist. They leaped on buildings, crawled up the walls and fired back with desperate screams. One or two shuttles were hit, and they crashed on Satah as if that was their purpose.

Their tank reached the outskirts of the city. With a cheer, they drove on and on, until they reached a large group of turians standing witness to Satah’s destruction. Titus jumped out, holding up his hands and the turians let them pass.

“That’s not the army, isn’t it?” whispered James as he noticed the difference in uniform. These turians were covered from head to toe, even their faces weren’t visible.

“No,” Solana answered lowly, not daring to look outside as the turians let them drive through. “They’re the _hastatim.”_

“Oh, so that’s them?” said Shepard.

Vega furrowed his brow. “I’m confused. What’s hastatim?”

“They’re the execution squad of the Hierarchy,” Solana answered and cleared her throat. “It’s their job to make sure that…”

“Their job is to remove every bit of resistance,” Shepard said. She leaned back in her chair with an exhausted sigh. The bombing continued. They felt it more in the way the ground trembled than in the noise.

“So… they practically kill everybody.”

Solana scoffed. “You make it sound so cruel.”

“Well it is.”

“No, it is not! Someone has to do the dirty job and maintain order, or not?”

Vega’s face hardened and he cracked his knuckles. “Ever heard of something like human-”

“Oh don’t come at me with human rights, James!” Solana cried. “Not every race is like you!”

“Freedom-”

“I was not talking of freedom here, Vega! I was talking about war and this is – we are at war here!”

He shook his head. “So you’d rather destroy your own cities yourselves than let the krogan have ‘em?”

She lowered her face. “Cities can be rebuilt, a culture-”

“Yeah, tell that to the people who were left behind in Satah right now.”

The turians in the tank all stood up to argue their case, Sol at the forefront.

“You are not turian. This is not your problem,” they growled.

James gritted his teeth, emitted a growl of his own. “But I’m here, and that makes me _your_ problem. So deal with it, _pendejo!_ ”

Shepard hit the wall with the palm of her hand and stood up. “Enough!” she yelled. Everybody fell quiet, and glared at each other. “Everyone get back to your seats. Vega, you sit at the front with Titus.”

The lieutenant stomped to the front and took a seat. Titus ignored him. He too had heard everything and he too was not happy.

Shepard dropped back on her seat next to Liara. The asari gave her a sad smile and helped her put on the seat belt. Shepard patted her hand with a grateful smile, but it faded; she was too tired. The defeat hung heavily, like a chain wrapped around her neck.

She missed Garrus. She wanted to talk to him so badly. She missed his touch. He was always so warm, though his skin was plated and therefore hard and rough and chafed her soft skin.

“Shepard,” Liara whispered, leaning closely. “We need to talk about Alina.”

Shepard, who was in no mood to talk about anything, felt her mood plummet even lower. She scrubbed a hand over her face.

“Can’t it wait, Liara?” she sighed. “Do I look like I can do anything about her right now?”

Liara shook her head. “What you do about her is up to you and the Primarch,” she replied with a patient sigh. “But I’ve been watching her more closely since you returned from the science facility and-”

Shepard let out an unimpressed grunt. “What was her reaction?”

“She didn’t. React I mean. At least not publicly. Come on, Shepard, did you really expect someone who’s managed to trick everyone to give herself away so easily?”

She shrugged. “You’d be surprised to hear what stupidities we’re capable of when we’re caught off guard.”

“It’s not that. I know Latus didn’t say anything to her until you had left Prima for the mission. I know, because I overheard their argument. She was not happy that Latus kept her in the dark about it. She was… she was quite upset.”

“That’s not surprising considering how informed she was all this time.”

“I know, and that is what I wanted to talk to you about,” Liara said and shuffled closer. “Latus, as much as he likes me, is even closer to Alina. Shepard,” she took a sharp breath, and disappointment flashed in her eyes. “You have no idea how much he relies on her. It is… Quite frankly-”

“You are disappointed in him.” Shepard’s eyes narrowed in sympathy.

Liara looked away, jaw set into a stubborn line. “It’s not that. I mean, I _am_ disappointed, but for _his_ sake. My disappointment has nothing to do with him trusting her more than me. I am, after all, the newcomer. Alina, however, has been with him for a long time.”

“How long?”

“A bit over a year,” she said.

Shepard’s heart tensed. She put herself in Latus’ place, imagined how it would be to have someone at her side she trusted deeply, even intimately, only to realize later that this person was a spy for the enemy.

She was hurt. She was deeply hurt, and sad, not for herself but for him.

“Some people have a terrible taste in people,” Shepard said with a twisted smile that was more sad than sympathetic.

Liara’s mouth twisted. “You don’t.”

Shepard’s eyes closed. “No… I don’t…”

*

Latus stood with his back to them. His hands were clasped together, almost casually so. The darkness outside radiated a grey hue around him, the opposite of a golden halo. He heaved a sigh.

“I can see you are not pleased, Commander,” he said.

Shepard had had not time to get changed or to rest. The journey back, as long as it had been, had not given her the peace of mind she’d hoped for. But then again, Shepard rarely had anything resembling peace. She was broken, had been broken over and over and then rebuilt again to serve the galaxy, and yet it could not have let her keep the one thing she had not dared to hope for: a family to make a new, permanent home.

“It’s not just that, Primarch,” Shepard said, hands curling into fists. “I’m just surprised that you ordered the destruction of your own city!”

He let out a sound between a growl and a sigh. A step behind her, Shepard heard Areem shift. General Otur had invited himself in; he glowered at Shepard from the background.

“It was the only way to lose without giving them the victory,” Latus replied. “You are human, Commander. You do not share our-”

“Oh, cut it off!” Shepard snapped. “This is not the first time someone like you tries to feed me that excuse! I _know_ what it’s like to make these decisions, Primarch, I had to make them myself during the Reaper war. What I do not like at all, _Sir_ , is how you kept me out of the loop!”

She ruffled her hair. “I have people under my command, Latus. I am responsible for them. If you had told me this suicide squad of yours would come I would have made damn sure there was none of your people left in Satah.”

She pointed a finger at him. “These deaths are on you, Primarch.”

His mandibles were clasped tight to his face. “They always are, Shepard.”

Shepard’s lips thinned. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, but there was nothing they could say, nothing that could be done to change the outcome. It had happened. Now they had to find a way to deal with this defeat.

“They’re also on you, Commander,” Otur interjected, subharmonics rising in heated anger. “It was you who decided to prioritize the science facility over Salva. If we’d had the com tower before you’d freed the science facility, Satah would still be in our hand! This whole mess wouldn’t have happened!”

“I knew the risks, General,” Shepard spat. “And we all agreed it was a risk worth taking.”

“Ah yes, but we all know there was more to it than that,” growled Otur. He tilted his head. “Are you going to tell me that you still would’ve chosen the facility over the com tower if your husband had not been a prisoner there?”

Her eyes widened. “That was not the only reason and you know it!”

“Aha! But it was one of the reasons, was it not?”

Shepard said nothing. Otur shook his head.

“And hers are the hands you put the fate of our entire colony in,” he said to the Primarch.

Latus growled. “Enough, Otur. We all knew the risks,” he said, “and it’s always easier to blame the doers than the talkers. It’s always easier to make these decisions when you’re not the one enacting them.”

Otur’s mandibles drew tight to his face and he huffed. He stayed quiet.

Latus’ brow plates twitched, but else he kept himself completely stoic. “Nothing? I’m disappointed.”

He returned to his desk and sat down with a heavy sigh. A pause tensed the air in the room. No one dared to speak a word.

Finally, Latus sighed again and planted his hands flat on the table. He looked each of them in the eye.

“What’s done is done,” said he, but there was no peace in his flanging voice. “The krogan have lost a battle, and so have we, and Satah is destroyed.”

“Cities can be rebuilt,” Areem muttered.

“They can,” Latus nodded. “But before that we need to win this war, and if we want to win we need the com tower functioning properly again. I want you three to work together on a plan to get Salva back. I don’t care if we have to destroy the city to secure the com tower.

“I know you have to return to Carthar, Otur,” he continued. “I suggest you return tomorrow at first dawn. Commander Shepard -”

Shepard looked up. Her fingertips and toes were cold. She needed to lie down.

“Your doctors have contacted me a few hours ago. I believe they have made progress with your husband’s… situation.”

Shepard let out a breath. “Thank you, Sir.”

He nodded. “Once Vakarian is rehabilitated I would like him to participate in the same manner he has before. He is a very valuable asset in this conflict.”

It was her turn to nod. “He is, Primarch.”

He smiled at her and looked as charming as ever. “Good, then I believe this meeting is over for now.”

They all turned to leave. Otur and Shepard almost slammed against each other in their hurry to be out first. Latus cleared his throat and everybody stopped.

“General Areem, I know it was a hard decision to make, but it was the right one.” He bowed his head slightly. “Good job.”

The turian saluted, but there was no pride in his subharmonics. “Thank you, Sir.”

*

As much as she wanted to see Garrus first, Maelon and Miranda were Shepard’s first stop. Their lab had gotten smaller since she had last seen them. The screecher lay dismantled on several tables; their desks had been pushed to the farthest corners.

Maelon was the one who welcomed her.

“Good news, Commander,” he chirped. “Everything will be fine.”

A dry laugh bubbled from Shepard’s throat as she took a seat. “Let’s see what you’ve got first, Maelon. How is he?”

“As fine as he can be,” Miranda said from the other side of the room. She was hunched over a microscope, studying samples probably. “We did several X-rays, and he’s getting enough nutrients through infusions. I think we should also start with physiotherapy to keep up the muscle mass.”

“He lost a lot of that,” the salarian said.

“Of course he did,” Miranda interjected almost dryly, as she switched samples. “The krogan kept him under a hard diet.”

Maelon chuckled. “ _‘Diet’_ haha.”

Her patience snapped. Shepard kicked the trashcan. “I’m up to my ears with work, Maelon, so get to it or I’m leaving.”

The salarian shrugged and pulled up several sheets. He hung them up on the glass and turned on the light.

Garrus’ X-ray.

“It looks worse on the patient,” he added, when he saw Shepard’s face.

“It looks worse on anything, Maelon,” Shepard snapped, voice breaking at the last syllable.

He gave her shoulder a light pat. “No need to worry. Vakarian will be fine. But the surgery will be long.

“We definitely have to be careful,” the salarian continued. “Metal attached to his face. As far as I can see, there are three screws on each side… hmm… like a bridle. That’s the bar that goes through the teeth, you see?”

He traced the long metallic bar that went through one mandible to the other with a hum, then wandered over to tap on the six circles that were the screws.

Whoever was responsible for this atrocity, they were going to lose their face for doing this.

 “It’s… fascinating…” Maelon muttered after a long pause, tapping his chin with a long, bony finger. His large eyes didn’t waver from Garrus’ X-ray.

Shepard was unsure if the word fascinating was the right one for this. It was definitely grotesque, almost screecher-like, and Shepard did not like this reminder at all. It was hard to distinguish what was his face and what the muzzle. A shudder shook her body from head to toe. She struggled against the instinct to curl onto herself; it was nauseating.

 “They removed some of his teeth, you see?” Again he pointed at a spot where the bit went through his mouth. “Clean work. I see no damage.” Maelon coughed uncomfortably as he was hit by Shepard’s universally known glare. “I mean – besides the visible damage. Or the – uh- not so-”

“Shut up Maelon, and focus on your job,” she ordered impatiently. “The faster you get all the parts, the quicker we’ll free him of the…” She daren’t say it out loud.

“Of course, Commander.” Maelon cleared his throat again. “As I said, two of his teeth were removed. Three on the other. Huh… his teeth must’ve been – uh…” He pressed a button on the screen, zooming in on his left mandible. “This one will be tricky…” he said and sighed. “Previous scars and the cybernetics made the area very sensitive… ”

“The… screws, how attached are they?” she asked tentatively.

“To the mandible… and the jaw it looks like.” Maelon nodded, pleased with his assessment. “Yes. The screws have not penetrated the flesh. They are… hm…”

“What? What is it?”

To her shock, the scientist walked away from her, humming pensively as he opened the door and headed toward the patients’ sector. Miranda looked up from her work, brows furrowed into a frown.

Shepard took a deep breath. “Do you know what-”

Maelon returned.

“You can’t just walk out on me and not tell me what’s going on!” Shepard cried out.

“Sorry, Commander.” Maelon lowered turned slightly away from Garrus’ X-ray and read through the results. “Just went to check on the patient. Was just checking on the muzzle’s design,” he explained and lowered his arm. “It’s… creative. Impressively so.”

Shepard clenched her teeth to keep herself from growling. “What did you find out?” she gritted.

Maelon returned to his desk and, once there, uploaded the scans on the main console. Another X-ray of Garrus’ jaw and muzzle appeared on the screen, along with hundreds of unintelligible data. He pressed a button and the X-ray materialized in shape of a digital 3-D model.

“See this?” His finger swiped the area where Garrus’ mouth plates were hidden. The image zoomed in.

“This is a… well, a plaque. It fits into his mouth. Between his dental arches.”

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. “Like a… a dental tray? You know, the thing dentists use to make an impression of the teeth?”

“Yes. The plaque is attached to the muzzle. One piece. These… wings attached to the mandibles and this chain here goes up to the fringe. Impedes movement.”

“I can see that,” she muttered dryly.

“Scans were necessary,” Maelon insisted. “Now I know the plaque is magnetic. Keeps the screws on the jaw from loosening and falling out.”

Shepard sighed and turned away.

“Creative design,” Maelon praised with a shake of his head. “Wouldn’t have thought of making a muzzle like this. Or of muzzling anyone, come to think of it.”

“It’s not creative,” Jane growled, whirling around to glare at him. “It’s… inhuman. Humiliating. It’s needlessly cruel. It’s – I … I don’t even know what it is. But I know what it isn’t.”

“Torture is always a creative job,” Maelon replied calmly. “It’s not a good one, but it takes imagination to get information from a prisoner.”

They stared at each other for a good long while, Shepard inwardly shaking her head, trying, but failing to put into words what she felt. Horror. Anger…

She had trouble coping with what she had seen in the “medical” facility. The piles of dead bodies in the underground cells. The labs with their cold walls; she could swear to have heard the echoes of the screams of the victims in them, following them deep into the passage tomb like a heightening chorus. The smell of death and waste and fresh and old blood was still very much present, as where the pleading screams of Tavis, the desperate wails of the captives and Garrus’ pathetic whimpers as Shepard freed him from his chains.

Death was too good for Sakkem. Just like the Reapers were destroyed for harvesting and using her own people, and every other free race in the galaxy, the krogan would pay.

But she couldn’t allow herself to lose focus. The mission, unfortunately, regretfully, had the priority. Wrex’ future as a leader, the galaxy’s peace depended on its success! Just thinking about everything that needed fixing made Shepard’s head spin. She needed to leave.

“When will you – when do you plan on having the surgery?” she asked finally, heading for the exit.

Maelon and Miranda exchanged glances.

“We thought about doing it in two days,” said Miranda. She followed Shepard outside. “I’m not going to lie, Shepard, this will be a difficult surgery, but he will live. Garrus will be fully functional again, do you hear me?”

Shepard had a lot to say, and yet her voice failed her. So she did the easiest thing and smiled. She squeezed Miranda’s shoulder, and hoped her friend would not feel the tremble in her hand.

“I trust you,” she said and left.

*

Liara confronted her on her way to Garrus. A bad idea if there ever was one. Shepard was not in a mood for confrontations.

“It’s late, Liara, and we all had a shitty day.”

“I know, Shepard, but we need to tell Latus about Alina. This cannot wait.”

“I know, dammit!” She pinched the bridge of her nose and inhaled deeply. “Liara… I promise you, I will tell Latus everything, but first I need to talk to Garrus.”

Liara grasped her sleeve. “Shepard…” She hesitated. “I know you’re having a rough time, but I don’t think it can wait. We’re just tempting fate at this point.”

“Liara, I have a shitload of responsibilities,” Shepard argued. “I have to take care of Garrus before the surgery, I have to deal with Otur and his stupid prejudice against me, I have to think about how to play diplomat with two aliens who are my friends and don’t want to compromise, I also have to talk to Vega and Sol before the two cause a second Relay-Incident, and to top all that I have to take back a com tower to win this stupid war.”

She took a deep breath, feeling the heat on her cheeks. “No offense, but fate can wait one more day.”

Liara let her pass and Shepard closed the door behind her. Her shoulders slumped with exhaustion. At least here it was quiet.

She sat down on the visitor’s chair. There was an empty cup on the table; Solana must’ve been here before. She wondered where she was now.

“I had a horrible day,” she began. It wasn’t what she had meant to say, and still… having her best friend present loosened her tongue.

“I lost. It’s not the first time, but it always feels the same.” She shook her head. “You should’ve seen it… how they dropped the bombs onto the city. I know it looks easier than it’s done, but still…” She lowered her gaze. “I had hoped this would not happen again.

 “The truth, Garrus, is that… I’m miserable,” Jane sighed. Her fingers were tracing absently the bony lines of his fingers. Every once in a while, they would twitch. His hand was warm.

“And it’s not just because I completely failed,” she continued. “I… truth to be told, I don’t know why I’m miserable. I feel I don’t know anything. I don’t think I _am_ anything, if that makes any sense.”

She looked at her husband. Garrus was still in a deep slumber. The up and downs of his chest was a comfort that contrasted with the ugly muzzle.

Shepard’s eyes looked down again. She wore just her underclothes, having gotten rid of her dirty and dented armor before she entered the hospital. They would not have allowed her to enter otherwise.

The hand she held tightened. Shepard looked up, her gasp died midway. Garrus was awake, if not a bit dazed.

“Garrus…” she swallowed, stunned. “I…”

A rumble stirred in his chest all over to his throat, before it got blocked by the muzzle. The sound was full of warmth; he was relieved to see her, grateful.

Shepard tried smiling, and it worked for the most part, but her eyes were teary, and Garrus noticed. It was his job to notice.

Shepard licked her lips. “I’m…”

Garrus let out another sound. It was his turn to hold her hand.

“I miss you,” Jane whispered.

Garrus squeezed his eyes shut. He drew her hand closer. He pressed it against his forehead first, then pressed it to his chest. His plates were rough under her skin, but the heartbeat was there – he was _alive_. His fingers traced lovingly over hers, counted each one with a playfulness that made her chuckle. He looked up. His gaze was warm and loving… and sharp, just like his embrace.

Shepard’s lips stretched into a weak, but beaming smile. She pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“We’ll make it,” she whispered. “Just like we always do.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one month?? How can it be?  
> Don't worry, I'm not ill or anything, but I had this chapter half-finished months ago, and since university starts again today I have to take the opportunity to write as much as I can while I still have the time and motivation.

The previous day ended in quiet rain, and the next morning began peacefully. Shepard went to see Garrus first, then headed over to Miranda to talk about the upcoming surgery. In the end, she had no excuse to push back her responsibilities, and decided to have a conversation with Solana and James about their heated argument in the tank on their return from Satah.

She exited the hospital, steps quick and determined; nobody dared to stand in her way. She walked all the way from the hospital to the barracks. It was close to twelve o'clock. The morning matured as the sun rose higher and gained strength. The sky, a deep blue, had a few puffy clouds dusting its smooth surface. Shepard took a fortifying breath; it would not rain today.

The streets calmed the closer she came to the barracks, though inside it was anything but. Everyone was involved in one activity or the other. There was the armory, the med-bay for "minor" injuries, and a large, overarching door gate led to the mensa, which was hustling with people at any hour. There were several sparring and exercise rooms in the building, and a fighting arena in the basement. Shepard had been there once, on her exploration tour, and felt as if she had stepped into a clandestine room.

She didn't find Vega in any gym, and she had no key to enter the men's barracks. It was odd; Shepard had thought she could go anywhere she wanted. This exclusion was... unusual. She decided to talk to Latus about it later.

Speaking of Latus, Liara crossed her path on her way to the women's barracks. Judging by the overly startled jump from her friend, Shepard guessed this meeting was not a coincidence. She was proven right, when Liara asked her if she had talked to the Primarch yet. Shepard bit down a growl.

"No, Liara," she said through gritted teeth. "But I was thinking we could go together."

Liara's face brightened. "Oh," she said, this time with genuine surprise. "That's a good idea, Shepard. Thank you." She raised her arm, her omnitool activated. "I'm going to tell him we're on our way."

Shepard pushed her arm down. "Are you crazy?" she hissed and loosened her tight grasp.

Liara rubbed her arm. "Why?"

"You can't tell him we're coming without any explanation. Alina will be asking questions."

The asari pondered this for a moment. She gave a light shrug. "It's her free day."

Shepard shook her head and resumed her walk. "Still. I'd rather our visit be a surprise. And communications are down anyway; your message wouldn't reach him."

"If you say so..." Liara looked around. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"I need to talk to Sol," she replied. "I tried with Vega first, but he wasn't in any of the gyms so..."

"So? He must be in the men's section then. Why do you not try there?"

Shepard rolled her eyes and pushed the door to the corridor open. "I don't have the key," she said wryly.

Liara stumbled on the next step. A frown creased her smooth forehead. "You have no entry to the men's barracks?" she whispered, eyes widening. "You, _Commander Shepard_ , are not allowed -"

"Yes, I know it's odd. I'm not used to that."

Liara smiled fondly. "It is true. You tend to have all the doors open."

"That's because I work hard to have them open before I arrive in the first place," Shepard said, hand now on the door handle to Solana's room. She hesitated.

"I want to talk to her privately," she said.

Liara nodded in understanding. "I will be waiting right here."

Shepard's mouth twitched. "Afraid I'll skip the meeting with Latus?"

Liara cocked her head slightly. She studied her thoughtfully. "It is important, Shepard."

"I know it's important, Liara," she said, unable to hide the defensive drawl in her voice. "Stay here, I'll be back in a sec."

Liara let out a sigh. "If only that were true..."

*

Solana's bunk was currently occupied by numerous datapads. The turian herself was on her feet, staring thoughtfully and stern at them as if they would be easier to decipher that way. One look was enough for Shepard to know that they were language related, probably coding; every screen was littered with glowing symbols, and some of them she recognized.

Shepard knocked on the open door.

Solana looked up with a start. "Is there something you need, Shepard?"

"Yes, we need to - is that coding?"

Solana's eyes brightened. "Yes, it is!" she said, subharmonics an excited rumble, and began to tidy her bed. "I borrowed them from the library yesterday. For such a young colony, they do have an impressive collection on linguistics and communication. Unfortunately, their history section leaves a lot to be desired. But I guess that comes with the owner being a human. I feel humans are more interested in fantasy and culture than military history."

She looked up, saw Shepard's raised eyebrows, and her mandibles fluttered. "I uh... I didn't mean that that's a bad thing," she hurried to explain. "I just... I meant that we have different... uh... perceptions... I mean-"

Shepard raised a hand. She couldn't help but smile. Solana's babbling was endearing; it reminded her of Garrus in his awkward and shy moments.

"It's okay, I get what you mean."

Solana rubbed the back of her neck. "That came out wrong, didn't it?" 

"It's okay, really. Personally, I always found your focus on military strategy, your preferences on more strategical topics... weird..." Shepard shrugged. "I love history, and know a lot of people who do, but you're right when you say that a lot of people prefer the cultural aspects than battle strategy. After all it is in studying people that you find the reason behind the battles." She let her body sway back against the wall. "Why coding?" she asked.

It was Solana's turn to shrug. "I've always been fascinated by languages," she explained. "How people communicate, specifically. It's all the more interesting if you consider how differently our species communicate with each other. I mean... neither you nor the asari or the salarians have subharmonics - I always had a hard time understanding how... That's why you have to rely on other cues - like body language or... or the tone... to decipher the real message." Her mandibles twitched into a wry grin. "And even then you can get it wrong."

Shepard smiled. "I guess it depends on your own abilities to get the message."

"Yeah, psychopaths for example know from a very young age that they are different, but they adapt so that you only notice they are... wrong... when you know what you're looking for. I remember reading somewhere that they learn from a very young age to understand other people and their cues. Makes it easier for them to move around." She shook her head and her smile softened. "But we don't have to go that extreme... men and women also have different ways of perception."

Jane leaned back against the wall with a breathed laugh. "Yeah, I could tell you some stories there."

Solana hummed. "Your case is all the more interesting, because you're not only of the opposite sex, you're also very different species." Her eyes canted slyly to Shepard. "Would you... be willing to fill out some questions? You know... for scientific purposes."

Shepard let out a laugh and raised her hands. "Keep me out of it," she said. "You're only looking for blackmail material against your brother."

Solana rolled her eyes. "That guy... I don't need you for that. I grew up with him.

"But fun aside, what can I do for you?" she asked, tilting her head.

Shepard sighed and sobered. "Actually, I need to talk to you about the argument you had with Vega yesterday."

Solana's mandibles tightened. "Oh?" Her subharmonics spoke novels.

She gave the turian a warning stare. "Yes," she said and crossed her arms. "I don't mind verbal exchange between my team members, but what I do mind is when an argument comes so close to turning into a full on dispute or a fight as it did on our ride back."

She paused to watch her, expecting her to interject. Solana, however, stayed quiet and stared straight forward.

"I think it's good and important to talk to other people about our differences, no matter if they're biological, cultural or even political," she continued. "Garrus and I do that all the time, and sometimes we get angry.

"But this is not a private matter," said she. "We are on a mission, and believe it or not, but Vega has risked his life time and again to help. I know you don't like what he said about the hastatim and your species' way of handling things, and I'll talk to him about that later, but the way you acted - the way you almost acted yesterday - is unacceptable.

"We are on the verge of another war, Solana. You can't be picking up fights with your allies. You'll need them sooner or later."

Silence followed Shepard's speech. Solana's eyes were lowered. Eventually, she gave a sigh and looked up again.

"I understand," said she. "I will apologize to him, and try to have a more civilized discussion with him and others in the future."

Shepard nodded slowly. "Is there something you would like to say?"

Solana looked up, fingers fiddling, and it was such a nervous Garrus-gesture that it almost made Shepard laugh.

"I think Vega was wrong," the turian said after a moment. "But... I guess after the heat of the battle... he must've seen Satah as a defeat."

Shepard hummed. "You don't see it that way?"

"No," she answered with a light headshake. "It wasn't a victory, and we really need the com tower if we want to win, but it wasn't a defeat." Her mandibles flicked outwards, then pulled tight again. "I see it as a... a tie."

"A tie?" Shepard furrowed her brows and shrugged. "I'm not sure I call destroying your own city a 'tie'."

Solana sighed. "I don't want to discuss it with you now, Commander," she said and bent to pick up a datapad. "If you don't mind, I would like to return to my reading. Unless... unless you need me for something else?"

"I talked to Miranda before I came here," she said as she was turning to leave. "She and Maelon have decided to push the surgery to this evening."

Solana frowned. "Why?"

"Apparently, the list is very long, but there's one operating room that is free during the night, so..." Shepard shrugged, a gesture meant to show how relaxed she was, when in fact her veins were flooded with nervousness.

There was a short pause, Solana not being as skilled in hiding her worry. She nodded.

"I'll be there," she said.

Shepard thanked her and left the room.

*

When Shepard walked out into the hallway, the door having closed between her and Solana, Liara was nowhere to be seen. She stiffled a groan and ran. She ran as fast as her feet could carry her - and almost ran into Liara.

"Careful!" the asari cried out. She took deep breaths, heart still beating up to her throat from the near-death experience. "Why were you running?"

Shepard put a hand above her heart and laughed in relief. "I thought you'd gone to Latus."

Liara pursed her lips into a scowl. "I promised I would not warn him. Have a little trust in me!"

"I'm sorry," Shepard said earnestly, and began to lead the way downstairs. "I really am. It's just... there's a lot going on right now."

"I understand, I truly do, but... you need to have a little bit of faith."

Shepard shrugged. "Where were you anyway?"

A ghost of a smile lightened Liara's features. "I went to look for Vega."

"Oh? Was he in his cabin?"

"I went there first. I asked around and -"

Shepard came to a halt. People walked past them without glancing back. "Wait a sec, you got a key to the men's rooms and I don't?"

"I just asked a man if he could let me in." Liara shrugged. "He couldn't, but he went to look for James himself." They continued their way. "It turns out our dear James Vega had a late night, and was asleep, when you came down to look for him. I found him in one of the gyms."

"Push-ups?"

"Weight-lifting."

"Of course." 

-

One of Shepard's cheapest and most pleasant hobbies was listening to people's conversations as she passed by. She remembered fondly the krogan reciting poetry to an asari; the turian in C-Sec comforting the lonely refugee girl during the Reaper war; Garrus teasing Tali; Joker chatting with EDI.

And the gym was just the right place for this.

It was close to lunch time, and the gym was packed full with soldiers going after their exercises with renewed fervor, excited for their well-deserved meal. The asari in the boxing ring were engaged in a vicious hand-to-hand combat; every mattress was occupied, and so were the exercise equipment.

As Liara led the way to where James was honing his biceps, Shepard overheard this conversation:

"Have you seen him since our return?" 

"Once," answered the female turian. "He was out. Completely."

Turning around, Shepard saw Tavis and Calah, Garrus' team mates, sitting on a bench, towels slung over their shoulders. Their bodies still showed the torturous exertion of their time of captivity; their mandibles hung more loosely it seemed, and their hide looked greyer than the skin of the healthier turians. Tavis looked shy, he kept his head bowed and his hands on his knees, talons rubbing over his plates absently. Calah, on the other hand, kept herself sitting straight and her gaze firmly looking forward. Her eyes had a haunted look in them.

"Did you find Syrus among the survivors?" he asked after a brief silence.

Calah sighed. "No, I already told you I didn't see him anywhere," she snapped. "Stop bothering me about it."

Tavis' mandibles flared. "I ask because I looked through the list of survivors and I couldn't find his name."

"What do you want me to say, kid?" she growled back. "If he isn't there, he's dead."

Tavis looked up. He released an indignated growl. "Shouldn't we try to retrieve his body then?" he asked. "It seems so... disrespectful to his person to leave him-"

" _Cruel_ is what these krogan did to us!" she hissed. "Fucking savages. Too bad the genophage didn't kill them all!"

Shepard had to bite her lip or else she would have made a comment. She really wanted to talk to them about Garrus, ask them about Salva, which was still a mystery to her. Calah's last statement, however, made her hesitate, because there was no way she could keep quiet if she said something like that to her. And she had no intention to set the turian off, either. 

"I wonder if Garrus knows what happened to him."

Calah released a guttural sound. "Did you not see him at all? It's a miracle he's alive."

"I _did_ see him," he snapped, subvocals pitching loud over his words. "I _carried_ him to the rescue shuttle! Where were you then, huh?"

"I don't know! I don't remember much of what happened, _okay?_ "

Tavis growled. "I _know_ , you said that ten times already. Stop taking your anger out on me!"

Shepard stepped closer and cleared her throat. Both looked up and she had the pleasure of watching their mandibles go slack.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said. "But I overheard you talking about Garrus and... I just wanted to say that his surgery is scheduled for tonight. So, whatever questions you might have, I'm sure he'll be approachable in a few days."

"You’re Commander Shepard," Tavis blurted out and immediately lowered his head in embarrassment.

She scratched the scars on her face. "I am, last I checked."

The humor went over their heads. They continued to stare, Calah more cynical than Tavis.

"So the Council finally decided to intervene," she said, crossing her arms and leaning back. "Took them long enough."

"Actually, I came on my own volition," Shepard replied frankly, seeing no reason to keep the truth from them. 

The reception of these news was not a happy one.

"Why am I not surprised?" the female turian groused.

Tavis was shaking his head. "One could think what happened in Salva would be reason enough to excuse an intervention," Tavis said. "But you know... we're just turians."

"I was hoping you'd shed a bit of light into what happened in Salva," Shepard said, grateful for the opening. "The reports were quite... reserved."

"That's not surprising," Calah replied with a careless hand wave. "I don't think anyone who knew what happened escaped."

Tavis nodded. "Yeah, all the citizens were being evacuated, and even if they didn't make it out on time, they wouldn't have payed attention to what was happening."

"So, what happened? Do you remember anything?" Shepard asked.

Both turians were quiet for a moment. Finally -

"I wasn't there, when the bomb went off," Calah admitted. "I- Garrus had sent me to the com tower. I was... I was to destroy it in the unlikely case they got the upper hand." She chuckled, the sound anything but happy. "Who would have thought..."

"Syrus was in charge of setting the first bomb," Tavis continued. "We were..." He sighed and planted a hand on his hip spur. "The problem, Commander Shepard, is that the krogan were not supposed to be there in the first place. At least, we were told they would come later, if at all that day."

Shepard frowned. "What do you mean?"

"What he means is that, before Salva fell, we were fighting for the com tower mostly through virtual means. The salarians were constantly hacking into our communication channels, they even controlled the satellites for a few weeks, before we got them back." She took a deep breath. "The point is that we checked the satellites the morning before we left Prima. Our people had been monitoring every piece of communication among the krogan just to see if there was any sign of a plan to attack Salva. There was none."

"You could have missed it," Shepard suggested carefully. "As you said, you were fighting for the control of the com tower. Your mission in Salva was a way to win that fight for good."

"Yes, but satellites images don't lie, Commander," Calah retorted. "I saw the images myself, the krogan were headed toward Carthar, not Salva. If they had done that... well, you know."

Shepard let the piece of information sink in.

"So, you're suggesting the images were false."

"I'm not suggesting anything. I _know_ these images were false. The salarians faked them. Because of them, the com tower was destroyed."

Tavis jerked up. His facial plates tightened in a frown. "Wait. I thought - I thought _you'd_ blown up the com tower!"

"You blew up the com tower?" Shepard gasped.

"No, but I wish I had," Calah said. She looked at Tavis. "I don't know how much you noticed being on the other end of the city, but... But the salarians infiltrated the city, before you set the first bomb off."

His eyes widened. "But...  We didn't set off the first bomb either. The guys stationed in the second ring, they blew it up first, and then a salarian set Syrus' bomb off and... I thought…"

"Well, I don't know more than you do," Calah whispered. "Everyone who was with me was killed, when they destroyed the com tower. I... For some reason I survived." She huffed. "Did me little good, though."

"How bad was the damage?" Shepard inquired.

Calah shrugged. "I'm not sure," she answered. "But I'm sure the salarians will have fixed it for the most part by now. If there's one thing they're good for is for tinkering."

Tavis rubbed his abdomen. "They did it plenty enough on us..."

"Would you be willing to testify?" Shepard asked Calah.

The turian growled. "On a war tribunal? I would swear by the spirit of my family."

Shepard looked over her shoulder and nodded at Liara. Her friend understood and approached. "Well then... Thank you," she said to the turians. "You just gave me the perfect ammunition to convince the Primarch of something."

They looked surprised, but pleased, and they bowed their heads as she walked off with her asari friend.

Liara glowed. "So, you're telling him now?"

She shot her a mock glare. "Save it for lunch, Liara," she said. "I'm in a fighting mood right now. Vega can wait for an hour or two."

Liara bit her lip. "Latus has no idea what's coming."

"Poor guy," Shepard said as they left the building. "I don't envy him for his position. I don't know what I'd do if somebody told me Garrus was a spy."

"You cannot compare the two," Liara interjected. "You and Garrus were always on the same side. And Garrus is not the deceiving type. In fact, I would characterize him as being very earnest. Almost to a fault."

*

Latus was sitting at his desk, scrolling down a large, glowing screen. His demeanor relaxed considerably as he saw them enter. His eyes rested for a moment longer than was polite on Liara, before they wandered over to Shepard. He smiled and stood.

"Commander, Liara, I was not expecting you here at this hour. Is there something you need?"

Judging by his tone, Latus doubted anything was so urgent that would excuse their interruption. But really, Shepard didn't care.

She took a seat in front of him, ordered Liara to do the same, before her attention returned to the Primarch.

"There is a matter I need to talk to you about, and it concerns Prima's safety and your own."

His browplates canted up, but he wore the surprise well. An amused rumble escaped his throat. "Indeed? Then I believe I should listen."

Shepard's lips thinned. She did not appreciate his amusement at all. "I have a reasonable suspicion that you are being spied on, Sir," she said. "For a long while now."

Latus sighed and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands on his lap. "Commander, this is not the first time my people have criticized my asari guards. I assure you, I employ only the-"

Shepard bit back a groan and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Sir, I'm not talking about your bodyguards. I doubt they are close enough to you to be suspects, but-" She broke off and paused for a moment.

"You remember the factory?"

He nodded. "I asked you to retrieve some resources."

"Well, and you remember the reports?"

"Faintly," he admitted. "I read many reports every day, Commander, I can't remember them all."

"Yes, well, let me remind you then. When Alina gave me the reports she insisted that the compound had been abandoned for months. She said the last patrol that returned had been a month ago."

"Commander, a lot can change in a month," he said, patience wearing thin. So was Shepard's.

"I'm aware of it," she replied, biting back a smart comment. "The reports were still faulty. Alina wrote in those reports that nothing suggested that the factory had been taken - 'no patrols to confirm it' was what she wrote, I think. Her conclusion itself makes no sense; the fact that no patrols returned is enough to suspect that the area was being patrolled in the first place, and if the area was being watched by krogan, then it obviously point toward the factory being used, too."

Latus shrugged, but his calm was forced. "A mistake. A dangerous one, I admit, but that is not enough evidence to justify accusing Alina of being a spy."

"I... I agree," Shepard said begrudgingly. "But hear me out, Alina's been present in every single one of your war meetings," she continued, and discovered that the more she talked the surer she became of herself, "and every mission we discussed with her present ended in a defeat or in a twist that could have gotten us killed- "

"Are you really blaming Alina for sabotaging the missions you and your husband failed to succeed in?" Latus asked incredulously and with an angry thrum.

Her fist hit the table and she jumped to her feet . "No, I'm not!" she growled. "Alina was absent during our preparations for the mission to the science facility. The salarians were completely surprised. And-"

"Alina could not have known about Satah," he interjected, standing up as well.

"How do you know?" she asked. "Seriously, how can you know?"

"Because it was a _surprise_ attack, Commander."

"It was more than that. It was retaliation for our success in liberating the prisoners."

His expression gave nothing away, and yet he looked displeased. "Everything you just accused her off can be easily explained by failure on your part, Shepard, and by Sakkem's own authority."

"Fine, but you cannot argue with me about Salva," she said.

His plates twitched slightly. "Salva... was a defeat. A horrible tragedy that still affects us all deeply."

“Oh I agree that it was a tragedy, but a manipulated one. Listen, I have read every single document you had on Salva, from the beginning of the conflict to the moment the com tower stopped working. I also checked with Otur, who participated in the preparations, he gave me a briefing. And in the gym I encountered two of Garrus’ team members, and what they said gave a lot of insight in how things went.”

“The reports are still in the works, _Commander_ , because all the witnesses have been killed or have just returned. Confusion is understandable considering how chaotic everything-”

“No,” Shepard said with finality. “No, Primarch. There is a lot of confusion, yes, but only among those who didn’t know about the plan and weren’t in Salva. Tavis and Calah were both there.

“Is it true your people have been listening into the conversations among the krogan before the mission to see if they were planning to attack the city?”

His mandibles clicked. “It is true.”

“Is it true that you have relied on satellite images taken the same morning the army marched to Salva to make sure there really was attack planned on Salva?”

“Get to the point, Shepard,” growled Latus.

“These two witnesses I just mentioned? Well, they say the krogan arrived shortly after they did. The salarians got in before anyone noticed, and were ready to blow up the com tower just as Calah got up there to secure it.”

His mandibles flared anxiously. "Impossible."

Her eyes narrowed. "Is it? Tavis said that the krogan were prepared. And don’t get me wrong, there’s still a lot of confusion about what really happened. The first bomb exploded in the second ring, Tavis said, not the outer ring. But Calah thought the first bomb exploded in the outer ring.”

“That can all be explained without a spy, Shepard. From what you’ve said there was a lot of failure on our side-”

"Of course there was failure on your side, Latus. But you can’t deny that it is very, very likely that somebody on your side has sold information to the krogan, at least manipulated it, and that's why they have been advancing so quickly."

Latus shook his head. "Shepard, all you have are hypothesis, not concrete evidence."

"There was no concrete evidence for the existence of the Reapers," Shepard pointed out. "All concrete evidence I had was lost during a fight or after. Everyone else blamed everything on the Geth."

"The Council didn't want to see it. The truth was too horrible to bear."

Shepard crossed her arms. "As horrible as your right hand being a traitor? Imagine the trouble you’d be in, Primarch, if I am right and you looked the other way."

Latus' voice choked in his throat. He closed his mouth and his mandibles flared as he took a deep breath. He sat down again.

The silence lasted long enough for Shepard and Liara to feel uncomfortable. They were not sure if sitting down was the appropriate thing to do now, or if they should break the silence. They decided to wait for him to do it.

Latus sighed and looked up, eyes darker than the void. "Commander... what - you're asking me to investigate my... my most trusted ally."

Liara sat down and placed her hand over Latus' folded ones. "Latus," she whispered. "Is it possible you are so upset, because you have no evidence to prove Shepard wrong? Is it possible that she might be... right?"

"Think, Primarch, of how much damage you could do by not investigating this matter," Shepard said. "Can you really risk it - the safety of your colony - for the sake of one person? _If_ she is innocent, as you so stubbornly claim, then nothing is lost."

"Except her trust."

"If she is loyal to you, to the cause, then she'll understand," Shepard cut him off firmly. "And who knows? If she's innocent, then maybe it will lead you to the real spy. And if she is guilty... well..."

"Then she'll be tried and executed for treason," Latus finished, voice muted. He slid his hands from Liara's gentle grasp and looked up at the ceiling for a long while.

Eventually, he squared his shoulders and nodded. "Alright," he said. "I will investigate the matter myself." His voice had an edge of finality to it, and Shepard knew they were dismissed.

As the door of the elevator closed behind them and they began the dull descend to the lobby, Shepard realized that, instead of the triumph and satisfaction she had expected to feel, she felt only... hollow.

"Well..." Liara sighed as they exited the building. The sun was setting in the horizon. The sky promised a cloudy night, but the city's lights shone almost brighter than the hidden stars. "We have done all we could."

Shepard tried to smile, and opted for a light shrug instead. "I'm not sure how much he'll find, though. Alina's smart, she will have covered her tracks."

Liara grasped her shoulder. "The thing about truth, Shepard, is that it has the habit of revealing itself at the most inopportune times." She smiled, and her face was lit up by hope. "Go to Garrus, Shepard, and do not worry about anything else tonight. Things will take their course, as they always do.“

Shepard watched as her friend turned around.“ And what about you?”

“Oh, I will go up again. Someone has to comfort the old man,” Liara replied.

Shepard grinned crookedly. “Have fun then.”

“More than you, probably,” was the dry response, and she sobered as her eyes met Shepard's. “Everything will be fine, Shepard.” And she wasn’t speaking about Alina or Rubrum. “Garrus is hard to kill. And Maelon and Miranda are probably the best the galaxy has to offer. Trust me, he is in good hands.”

Shepard’s smile had tensed considerably. She bowed her head and turned away without any word.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than I expected, but it's done. Expect the continuation in the next two days!

It wasn't that Shepard had no faith in Miranda and Maelon, for she had witnessed their intelligence in person. Without Miranda, Shepard would not be alive; and the cure of the genophage would have taken much longer without Maelon’s research, as cruel as it had been. They had earned their position as the top best in the science world. But Shepard was wise enough to be aware how fragile life truly was. A person could survive the most outrageous accidents and cruelest murder attempts, and still die on the operating table from a different malady.

'Three to four hours', the doctors had said to her and Solana, while they waited for the anesthesia to kick in. Garrus had been calm enough, though that was probably due to the heavy dose of anesthesia. She had noticed the nervousness in his gaze, but as it was only slight, Shepard opted to let it go.

The doctors took Garrus away at ten past ten. Four hours passed, and they had not finished yet. Solana and Shepard took shifts with sleeping, and drinking and eating bland snacks. Eventually, they both fell asleep at the same time. Minutes turned into a fifth hour. Then a sixth. At half past four the doors slid open, and an exhausted, but pleased Maelon stepped out. His coat was stained with blood. Solana and Shepard stumbled up to their feet.

"What happened?" asked Shepard.

Maelon glanced down. "Oh! it isn't mine."

Shepard inhaled sharply. "I know it isn't yours!" she snarled. "What happened? Is Garrus-"

"Muzzle has been removed successfully. Patient is resting," he answered.

The tension left them with a deep sigh.

"So..." Solana cleared her throat. "So that's only..." She gestured at his coat. "...that's common for a surgery?"

Maelon rubbed his eyes. "Best if I showed you. There were... complications."

Shepard and Solana followed him through the door and down the hallway. It was so quiet that the harsh light contrasted the sensation of nightly sleep.

Sleep... that's something that Shepard desperately needed.

"Here," Maelon walked into the operating room where nurses where cleaning up the mess. The tools gleamed under the dimmed lights, and looked as sharp as a turian's fangs. Shepard motioned at Maelon to continue.

"Screws were more attached to plates than we thought. Skin tissue regrew around them," he explained and showed them a drill. Solana balled her fists.

"Force of the... removal finished breaking the right mandible," he continued and reached for a bowl. He fished the three pieces that made up the mandible. The grey color of the plate was caked in blood and dirt; there were several cracks and faded scars, and in between the natural ridges of a turian plate. Maelon put two of them together and wriggled a finger through the hole between them. "Screw was here. And here. Previous scarring did the rest." He handed the remains of Garrus' mandible to his sister, who held them in heavy hands, fingers brushing gingerly over the scars and natural ridges.

Shepard ran a hand over her face. "What did you replace it with? Cybernetics? Prosthetics? And does Garrus know?"

"Replaced mandible with prosthetic," he answered promptly. "Patient doesn't know."

Shepard nodded and took a shaky breath. "But... he will be okay, right?"

"Garrus should be completely fine, Shepard," Miranda said, stepping into the room. Her coat was unstained, new most likely, and her hands were clean and smelled, just like Maelon's, of disinfectant. She looked at the visitors one by one.

"If you want to see him, he's asleep. He should wake up in a few hours. Anesthetic or not, the surgery was strenuous for him."

"For all of us," Maelon muttered.

Solana placed the broken mandible carefully back in the bowl. She let out a shaky breath and looked at Shepard. They nodded at each other.

"Lead the way," Shepard said to Miranda.

*

“Have you spoken with James Vega yet?” Solana asked as they stepped out of the hospital a few hours later.

“No,” answered Shepard, sidestepping as pedestrians rushed across the street. “Didn’t find the time to, but it’s still early and I’m hoping to catch him in the gym later.”

Solana inclined her head lightly, a thoughtful hum rumbling in her throat. She looked up. “I slept so little that my body thinks it’s still night. But it’s already nine in the morning!”

And what a morning it was. The sun was already high up in the velvet blue sky. Some fluffy clouds dotted the landscape, providing the people of Prima with much needed shade. It was not a hot day, but the sun was strong and very bright.

“At least it’s warm,” Shepard observed, tying her jacket around her waist.

Solana breathed in the morning air with a light hum. “Hmm, yeah… could be a bit warmer though.”

They were headed toward the barracks to eat their well-deserved breakfast. They walked slowly, strolled down the streets like dazed ghosts. Shepard was hungry and tired, so much so that she didn’t know which one of those needs she should satisfy first.

They passed a café on their way. Its door opened as a customer departed with a happy smile, and the scents of warm bread, fresh coffee and the sweetest pastries hit Shepard’s nostrils. Even Solana stumbled to a halt. They stared inside through the large window. The café was bristling full, but there! In the back a small table was just being cleared. Shepard and Solana shared just one look before they rushed inside. It was hotter than outside; the smell of high quality breakfast hung it the air like drapes. The place was quite rustic: the walls were paneled with wood up to the height of an average turian; the rest of the walls, including the roof were painted in a marigold orange. The tables were mostly round, except for those attached to the walls: these were square and larger, and had pillowed stone benches.

Shepard and Solana were led to their small, round table by a rather short asari. They ordered a special sort of kava, and a white hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon sprinkled on top. Looking at the menu, they found that the prices were not cheap, but not too expensive either. In short, it was just the right treat they thought they deserved after such a long night. Garrus was fine, or would be in time.

Their beverages came after a few minutes and their waitress took their orders. They had to wait longer for those. Solana had asked for a turian dish that resembled porridge, but only with a lot more meat and a lot less milk and something which was unrecognizable. Shepard, on her part, had something less exotic, and opted instead for scrambled eggs and bacon, and a small basket with a variety of bread and the recommended spreads – butter being the big favorite. They ate mostly in silence. Shepard felt all the tension leave her body with every sip and every bite; she only wished Garrus was here to share this meal with them.

Eventually, they finished their sumptuous breakfasts. Solana wiped her mouth with the napkin. “So, what comes next?” she asked.

Shepard stretched in her chair, reluctant to bother herself with more responsibilities. “What do you mean?”

The turian lifted a shoulder. “Just asking. Because if there’s nothing planned for today, I’d like to go to sleep.”

She rubbed her eyes, smiling softly at the thought of a few hours of sleep: her bed… her bed was very warm, very comfy, and the mattress was neither too soft nor too hard.

“That sounds like a really good idea. I approve of that plan,” said Shepard, and called the waitress over to pay.

They left with the intention to take the quickest path to the barracks. However, their intentions meant nothing, because the main road was blocked due to a traffic accident involving three shuttles and a watermelon. Nobody could pass until the scene had been cleared, which, as the traffic staff insisted, would take a few hours.

No one was very happy about it. It was an important and well-used road. Shepard and Solana had to go all the way back to the hospital and then head to the taxi stands to take a shuttle to the outer wall in order to reach the barracks.

“What a waste of time…” muttered Jane, annoyed, and Solana agreed with a grumble.

As they passed by the hospital, Shepard wondered if she should pay Garrus a visit, but quickly rejected that idea. She desperately needed a few hours of good sleep.

It took them an hour to arrive to their final destination. Shepard hurried her steps, feeling in the back of her mind that if she didn’t hurry someone would delay her much needed rest.

And she was right. Of course.

They saw Liara exit the elevator they wanted to take. Shepard greeted her almost like in afterthought. She hadn’t meant for this friendly greeting to lead into a whole conversation.

“Shepard, I need to talk to you for a minute,” Liara said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Shepard groaned, rubbing her eyes as she turned round, not missing the desperate look in Solana’s eyes. Shepard didn’t say anything, and so the turian shuffled out of the elevator with a sad sigh.

“Liara, I am really tired.”

“I know you had a long night, Shepard, but so did I, and I need to talk to you urgently.”

“Well, it surely was better than ours,” Solana sniped.

“Oh, be quiet you! You wouldn’t believe the night I had,” the asari cried. “Unbelievable!!”

 Shepard arched a brow. “Unbelievably good or unbelievably bad?” She shrugged at Liara’s glare. “You’d said you wanted to comfort him. Don’t blame _me_ for making assumptions!”

“It’s not that… nothing happened!”

Solana made a sound. “Is that why you’re angry?”

“No! Not everything is about sex!” she cried.

“Usually is, when men are involved,” Solana mumbled.

“You know, Solana, you sound very bitter,” Liara snapped.

“And you don’t?”

“I am not bitter, I am angry!”

Shepard sighed. “Okay, what did Latus do?”

“He kicked me out!”

“He did? Why?”

“Just now he did! That’s why I need to talk to you. He wants to talk to Alina alone!”

Shepard sagged, holding herself on her feet by pressing her body against the wall. “Oh.”

The asari gave a nod. “Yes. As you can see, my issues are not with him – or rather, not only with him; it’s Alina who I don’t trust.” Her eyes narrowed. “Something… bothers me about her…”

Solana, who did not understand where this sudden concern and distrust came from, misunderstood the meaning of Liara’s words completely. “Are you jealous because the Primarch trusts Alina more than he trusts you?”

Liara’s jaws hardened. Her eyes stared coldly at the turian sitting beside her. “In that case I do not want to imagine how jealous _you_ must be. Turians don’t do it for him after all.

“But this is not why I am here,” she continued, pointedly ignoring the dangerous flare of Solana’s mandibles. “I am not so unprofessional to confuse my personal feelings for… an actual concern.”

Shepard lifted a shoulder. “I get why you are worried, but if Latus wants to talk to Alina alone then it’s his right.”

“I know, I understand, but…” Liara bit her lip. “It is something else… She has been very careful around me lately – too careful. She gave me this look, before she closed Latus’ door… She knows, Shepard. She knows, and I’m worried she has a backup plan.”

Shepard frowned. “Could she bribe him with anything?”

“’Bribe him’? Why would Alina bribe the Primarch?” Solana asked. “What’s the problem here? I don’t understand why you are all so worried.”

Liara glanced at her old friend, a line between her brows. “Did I overstep?”

She shook her head. “No, I think it’s best if I told her now.”

Solana raised a hand. “Woah, you don’t have to explain yourself to me!”

“I am aware of that,” she replied. “But I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell you. Besides, I believe it’s always better to know the whole picture before going in to a fight.”

“And it is an ugly picture,” Liara added under her breath.

Shepard rolled her eyes. “That’s not the point,” she said. “Anyway, I’ve had the suspicion for a while that Alina might be a spy for Sakkem and- what is it?” she asked as she watched Solana’s mandibles click tight to her face.

“A spy?” the turian stammered, subharmonics so tremulous that Shepard’s translator glitched for a second. “But… Shepard, if you are right then we have to get rid of her immediately! Who knows how much she knows!”

“And that’s why I told Latus first,” she said. “I don’t want word getting out about this until he has made a decision. And it’s his to make.”

“Who knows what he’s going to decide,” Solana growled. “Who knows what tale Alina will tell him.”

Liara frowned. “He’s not incompetent.”

“Everyone is incompetent when they are in love.”

“There’s that bitterness again. Shouldn’t you, a _turian_ , have more trust in your _turian_ Primarch?”

Solana gave her a disdainful sneer. “Just because I’m loyal to the Hierarchy – the one system that keeps our race together and functioning, by the way – doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

“Enough you two,” called Shepard tiredly. She bit back a yawn (she was really so tired), and straightened her back, gazing yearningly at the elevator. Her appointment with her cabin would have to be delayed for a later hour.

“If you are so worried then why don’t we go check on him?” she asked aloud.

Liara looked at her with wide eyes. She gave her friend a grateful smile and pressed Shepard’s hand as she got up, too; Solana following closely behind.

“Just like in the beginning,” said Liara with an eager smile. “You, me,” she canted her eyes at Solana, “and a Vakarian.”

*

It was close to midday. The air was quite dry, though not hot yet, and the few clouds that had dotted the sky had been swept away. The sun glared down at them; the only place of respite from the heat the shaded areas underneath the lazy rustle of the trees. None of the trees were native to Rubrum; the trunks were too silvery, and the leaves thicker than of the native Rubrum trees, which were red and turned green, yellow and blue during autumn.

Everyone seemed to be out at this hour. School was closing for the day, and students of all races and ages crowded to get home as quickly as possible. The adults with jobs were leaving their offices and shops to have their lunch – in one of the parks perhaps or one of the restaurants. Shepard noticed absentmindedly that there were few mothers strolling on the streets with their little children – maybe it wasn’t the hour for that. Maybe they were waiting for their older kids to come home.

She ignored the uncomfortable squeeze in her chest, and made her way through the crowd like a bull. She could feel her friends staying close to her. It hit her suddenly that this might very well be the last time the three of them would hang out so peacefully and without any real urgency. Soon, once Garrus was better, and she and Otur and Areem had concocted a good strategy to take back Salva, they would call Victus, Primarch of Palaven, and ask for support. Then they would go to war against Sakkem and his followers.

There had been so much going on and at the same time, Shepard had had no time until now to think about Wrex and his state of power. She hoped Wrex had managed to re-establish his seat as leader of the united clans. What she thought of him as a person didn’t matter (though she was very fond of him. He was a very good guy), but what did matter was that he brought stability to the krogan race. Sakkem had the opposite effect on his people. If Wrex lost… she didn’t dare imagine what would happen. And if Wrex did not side with her… well, that she could not even _begin_ to imagine.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. She was exhausted.

Walking closely behind her, Solana let out a sound that resembled a yearning whine. “Spirits, I hope our talk with Latus won’t take long. I swear I can feel the mattress against me already.”

Liara frowned. “I forgot to ask, but how did the surgery go? I can imagine you didn’t get much sleep.”

“We didn’t,” confirmed Shepard with a slow nod. “But he’s fine. They had to replace his right mandible – you know, the one who got hit by a rocket years ago – but he’ll be fine.”

Liara gave her a soft smile. “I’m glad he will be fine. Did they use a prosthetic?” she asked.

Shepard nodded again.

“And how does it look?” the asari asked again, this time with a brief glance at Solana.

“Not gonna lie, but… well, it’s hard to overlook,” the turian sighed. “But at least he’s alive and free to talk again…” Her browplates shifted into a frown. “Though I’m not really sure if that’s a good thing…”

Shepard let out a chuckle, warmth filling her chest as soft as cotton as she thought of Garrus’ voice. “He does talk a lot.”

Sol laughed as well. “And he never knows when to stop.”

They were allowed through without any trouble. The gates closed behind them with a heavy groan, and Shepard felt the vibration when they closed. And then they entered the Primarch’s building.

Nothing was out of the ordinary. And perhaps that was the problem. Nothing was out of place. The receptionist sat at her desk, typing something on her console. Other employees were walking in and out of their offices, handing over papers, picking up new ones, and exchanging words with each other like nothing was out of the ordinary. Shepard looked at her friends. They looked back, expectant, so Shepard explained this upsurge of paranoia for that – paranoia. She was expecting the worst to happen just because she was used to it.

She shook her head, brushing the lose strands of hair from her forehead as she approached the receptionist.

Her desk was amazingly tidy. There was no crumb, no dust; no wet marks from any glasses, no pencil smudges or lines. A pile of paper was smoothly piled beside the console; pencils and pens were stacked in a plastic cup.

Shepard placed a hand on the desk and cleared her throat. The asari looked up.

“Can I help you, Commander?” she asked with a smile.

“I need to speak to the Primarch,” she said.

Her smile stiffened, but stayed in place. “The Primarch is in a meeting at the moment, Commander. I am sure he will be available tomo-”

“Tell him it’s urgent.”

She opened her mouth to argue further. One second later, she changed her mind and pressed a button on her console.

“Excuse me, Primarch,” she said, tongue wetting her lips. “But- yes, I’m sorry but …” She bit her lips, canting her eyes to glare at Shepard. “It’s Commander Shepard, Sir. She… she says it’s – yes, it’s urgent apparently, Sir.” There was a pause. She nodded curtly, then cut the call. She sighed and turned back to the women present.

“You can go up,” she drawled.

Shepard nodded, pleased. “Let’s go.”

They knew the ride up was going to drag, but knowing does not equal being mentally prepared and unfazed by it. The elevator ride – a journey as boring as any other trip with it. When the doors slid open, the relief was broken like a mirror. The silence was deafening. The lights were still. The thick glass swallowed the sun light with its green tinted surface. Shepard felt like she was walking inside an empty beer bottle, her one goal being to crawl out of it.

Instead she led down to the bottom of it.

A breathless gasp died in her throat as they turned round the corner.

“Ah, shit…” Solana mumbled as Shepard leaned down to check the pulse of the guards. “How long ago do you think that happened?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, wiping her hand on her pants. The two guards were dead, and had been for a while. “Hmm, there isn’t much blood…”

“And no signs of defense,” Solana added.

Liara shook her head, waving at the broken arm of one of the guards. “She tried at least.”

“Alina must have killed them very quickly,” said Shepard. “Someone would’ve heard if it had come to a fight. Unless…” Her eyes moved over slowly from the dead bodies further to the closed door to the Primarch’s office. She swallowed.

Liara followed her look, and turned pale as she understood. She jumped to her feet, but Shepard held her back.

“Don’t-”

Shepard yanked her back by the arm. “Be quiet!” she hissed.

Liara struggled against her grip. “But… Latus-”

“No!” Jane pushed her down, using everything she knew to stop her friend. “Listen – Listen, Liara,” she spat. “We can’t just run it. We need to be careful.”

“And you forget, Alina probably knows we’re coming,” Sol added.

“Exactly! Liara…” Shepard released the tight grip gradually, watching carefully Liara’s reaction. “Liara, if we run in she might kill him on the spot and-”

It was not an earthquake, because the building didn’t shake. Like thunder; but it was not loud, for the sound – distant and dull, and yet loud, was far away. And as the thunderous sound faded, a gunshot went off behind the closed doors.

Shepard and her team kicked open the doors: they were not locked. Alina was standing in front of Latus’ desk, gun raised at shoulder level. She whirled around as the doors flew open, and with an elegant twirl turned to leave.

Liara groaned and covered her eyes. Latus sat on his desk chair, head thrown back and arms hanging limply down his sides. Blood slid down his face and into his armor and further down to drip on the clean floor.

Shepard raced after Alina as Liara stumbled over to the dead turian. Alina hopped on the window ledge. She turned around once to give Shepard a smile, before she threw the commander back with a careless flick of a blue glowing hand. Solana's gunshot bounced off her strong shields like an elastic band. Then, her biotics flared round her body again as she levitated herself down and away.

Liara was cradling Latus' head against her chest. She stared after the asari with a tear-filled glare. "You _BITCH!"_ she roared and moved to jump after her.

"Liara, no!" Shepard barely managed to hold her friend back. Just then another explosion shook the great city. The noise reached them before the heat - that such thing was possible, at that distance, made Shepard's stomach churn.

Solana was by the window in an instant. Her shoulders dropped. "Oh no..." she moaned, subvocals ringing anxiously. "Shepard, it's the outer wall." Her hand flew up. “And there! They hit the Main Square!”

Shepard looked back, hands still gripping Liara's shoulders. The edge of the outer wall was just visible from where they stood. There was no fire there yet, but black smoke rose skyward, thick and dusty; they would eventually join the tendrils of smoke from the other explosion.

Shepard moved a hand to tug on Liara's arm. With the other, she waved at Solana. "Come on," she said, eyes narrowing into angry determination. "We've got a city to save."


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I promised: the next chapter. You'll probably have to wait longer for the next.

He heard noise first before he recognized his surroundings. A shrill, hysterical sound rang ceaselessly, drawing excruciating pain through his eardrums. Garrus' eyes blinked away the dizziness. He had trouble breathing and he could feel his heartbeat up to his throat. He was trapped still; muzzled and tied to another bed with tubes attached to his skin.

With a muzzled cry he fell from his bed. All the while, the alarm continued to scream. He yanked the IV-tubes from his skin. There was one thing in his mind: escape, escape, escape.

Garrus tried to cry out, but his mouth didn't move! He fell to his knees with a muffled keen. His hand was trembling as it reached up to brush over his tied face. He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning, at the feel of the fabric. His foreplate touched the cool tiles, hands placed on either side of his bowed head.

_"Animals..."_

_"This is your place, turian."_

How often did they say that to him? How often did they come into his cell to interrogate him - to humiliate him? He could still feel Sakkem's foot on his head. He could still feel the shudder that Sakkem's rough voice left in the air.

Looking around told him very little; he was in a white room with a window that was too small to climb out from. There was a fragile table placed beside the narrow bed, and two chairs were on either side of it as well. Odd. His previous cell... he shuddered and forced himself to focus on something else. The sensation of this horrible memory stayed however.

No gun. No tool he could use for defense.

Standing up was an unexpected challenge. He felt weak and his mandibles hurt terribly. He needed to hold himself on the wall and wobble to the exit. The likelihood that it was unlocked - it was! Garrus' knees almost gave in. His hand trembled on the doorknob and, taking a deep, fortifying breath, he pushed open the door.

With nothing but his bare hands as weapons, Garrus slid out of his room.

The alarm was louder in the hallway than in his room, and the lights were blinking erratically. That wasn't the problem; however, the amount of people rushing from one place to the other was.

Garrus stayed paralyzed at the threshold. He kept his head low, but his eyes wide open as he watched the people come and go. It was clear that, while there were people coming from both the left and the right, everyone was headed toward the exits. The alarm was evidence of that, but so were the prisoners the medics were taking with them. Garrus' eyes flickered shut. He remembered vividly the lab the salarians took him to. All the tools and tables that were occupied, and the smell of dried blood and urine and vomit. These medics here were not saving the prisoners out of conscience and compassion. They just wanted to save their miserable test subjects.

His heart skipped a beat as he thought that the alarm must have been set off by outsiders. Perhaps somebody was on their way to save them!

With shaking body, Garrus plastered himself against the wall as best as he could. Turians were by shape and height not easily overlooked. But ith the current panic and hurry, there was a slight chance that they might just ignore him. After all, he served no purpose to them anymore. The only thing they could gain from him was sadistic entertainment; and he would make sure he died before that happened again.

He reached the corner with slow slides, and by then he was panting as hard as he could with his face muzzled, and in pain. He kept having to take short breaks, his mandibles hurt terribly and his teeth felt sore as if they were growing and his tongue raw from rubbing against the metal bar going from one mandible to the other. He could not feel that anymore, though. He hoped they hadn't removed it to upgrade the torture device.

The alarm was still going. The sound thrummed into his ear channels with the ruthlessness of a drill. Much like the one they had used on his plates. Garrus had to stop again, body curling at the memory.

Why - _why_ had they not just killed him like his good friend Syrus? His death had been gruesome and slow, but at least the pain had ended. He had died for the cause. And Garrus? He had led his men to this humiliating defeat and captivity. If he had not failed his men would not be imprisoned and Syrus, poor Syrus, would still be alive.

Shaking his head clear from the premature blame, Garrus turned round the corner – and blindly ran into a doctor. They fell hard on the ground, and the fall knocked his bandaged face, sharp, mind-numbing pain cutting sharp through his senses.

Voices slid through the constant shrieks of the alarm. Hands were on him, from below and from above. Too many hands. Too many voices. And Garrus suddenly remembered where he was, and he jumped to his feet, fists raised to fight. He snarled, or tried to, and slammed his fist against the salarian doctor he had run into. The salarian's eyes widened even more as he watched the fist approach. He raised a hand himself, but was too slow. A pink hand grasped Garrus' raised fist and pushed it down. He lunged again, growling. The unconscious shifts of his mandibles made his wounds bleed, and drench the bandages with blood and saliva alike. The pain, however, was secondary in that moment. Right then and there, Garrus did everything to defend himself.

They overpowered him shortly after the first punch. Garrus was a good and a stubborn fighter, but he was weak and even if he wasn't, he was too disoriented. They slammed him on the ground, yanking his arms back, and Garrus released a desperate cry. The pain sharpened.

"Sedate him!" one of them ordered.

 _No!_ Garrus cried inwardly. _No, please don't!_

He struggled underneath their grasp. His body wriggled and fidget, legs kicking until they were held down by a pair of strong arms.

 _Please! Just let me go!_ he cried. _Please! At least let me fight if you want to kill me!_

"Commander!"

"You know this turian?"

"I do, he's my Commander. Commander Vakarian. I suggest you let him go at once."

"You're aware he's completely disoriented, right? He attacked one of the doctors."

"You must excuse him. He had some bad experiences with a salarian doctor, ma'am."

The dual-toned voice, turian undoubtedly, made Garrus' body relax almost instantly. It was as if he had been drugged and hung now on a cloud; he felt heavy, as if someone was sitting on him, and yet relaxed.

"Sir?" The turian male cleared his throat. "Commander, can you stand?"

"He can't speak," a female voice said.

"I know that!" the turian snapped. Garrus heard him kneel beside him. "Would you like to take my hand, Sir?"

Garrus didn't move, except to turn his head. The turian leaned closer. He was young and handsome with his dark grey plates. His clan markings were off-putting; the lines were sloppy like a child's finger-paint. But Garrus had not the luxury to be petty. A turian was a turian, and this one with his light green eyes looked very kind.

The turian in question tilted his head, mandibles clicking tight in worry. "Commander? You do recognize me, do you?" At Garrus' silence, he cleared his throat again, "I'm... It's Tavis, Sir. We... we were together before-"

Garrus' hand gripped his with a sudden violent move. Tavis flinched in surprise, but didn't move otherwise. Garrus released a sound, hoping that at least a turian would understand him, when the others - these _aliens_ \- could not. Tavis' face gentled, mandibles shifting into a more relaxed stance. He tightened his grip and helped his superior to his feet, then waited until he could stand on his own before he let go.

"You are in the hospital, Sir," Tavis explained, the two of them the only unmovable objects amidst running people. "You've had a surgery where they removed the..." He swallowed. "... and they put these bandages until you heal."

Garrus' fingers touched his the fabric wound around his face, and closed his eyes in relief. He gave then Tavis a questioning look.

"Oh, and Prima is under attack, Sir," the young turian continued, shifting from one foot to the other, and rubbed the back of his neck. "There were... uh... a few explosions, but no one really knows what's going on." He gave Garrus a wide eyed look. "As you can see, Sir, they are evacuating the hospital. I came here to help. Thank the spirits I did. I thought they were going to hurt you!"

 _So did I,_ Garrus thought.

The medical staff waiting for them was growing restless.

"If you want you can lead him to the emergency exit," the salarian doctor suggested with a flustered huff. "We, however, are busy." With those words, the doctor and the nurses walked off.

Tavis gripped Garrus' bicep as the latter swayed. Garrus released a grateful hum and took a moment to center himself.

"Sir, we really should go," the young turian said.

Garrus nodded, then gestured at the rifle strapped onto the turian's back. Tavis craned his head back and his eyes widened in understanding.

"Of course, Commander. Sorry, I forgot you'd like to have one." He hesitated, then pulled the pistol from his belt.

Garrus took it with the same hesitation the gun was handed to him. His hold tightened, however, as soon as his fingers got used to the width of the grip. He nodded in thanks.

"Great," said Tavis. "We should go now, Sir." He moved toward the emergency exit, but stopped when his commander didn't follow.

His browplates shifted into a confused frown. He jerked his head toward the steady stream of people headed toward the exit. "Sir, the emergency exits are that way."

Garrus shook his head. His mind was now clear.

Tavis' eyes widened. "You... you want to join the fighting, Sir?"

Garrus nodded and began to walk in the opposite direction. A moment after, he heard Tavis run after him.

 

* * *

 

_Commander Jane Shepard_

_Somewhere on the streets of Prima_

_13.14 p.m. Ten minutes after the second explosion_

*

The city was in chaos. The fire was not satisfied with the buildings it had started in, but spread to the surrounding buildings. Fire alarms broke the screams of civilians; were muted by the disorienting exchange of gunfire.

What to do? where to go first?

The wall! The wall had to keep standing. If the outer wall fell under the ongoing onslaught by the intruders it would take months to fix it; and under the circumstances they were in that would be impossible. And who was certain that Sakkem was not waiting in that moment to storm Prima, Rubrum’s prime city?

There was smoke rising from the Forum, the most frequented spot in the capital during the day. There was little she could do about the fire; the firemen were best equipped for it.

Shepard stormed with all the speed her tired body would allow down the streets. The soldiers she passed were doing their best, but even they were disoriented. Shepard didn’t hesitate. She jumped on a container, and shot thrice in the air.

“Listen up!” she shouted. “Our city is on fire and we’re being attacked from all sides! I want you to secure every building that is not on fire or destroyed! Return the enemy fire! Lead the civilians to safety – and by civilians I mean everybody who doesn’t know how to fight! And the rest of you: go and protect the wall! Let nobody in or out!” 

The soldiers began to stir with bottled up fury, the excited vibrations making its way through the growing crowd. Shepard’s assault rifle clicked as she reloaded. 

“To your posts! Fight! Send these bastards back to hell!” she shouted furiously, jumping off the container.

Her friends followed her. They raced down the main street, jumping on and off stranded shuttles. There was gunfire and the shiver of biotics in the air. Black reached to the sky from the outer wall: the clouds were thick, and getting more so the higher they reached. The rest of the blue expanse seemed to be unfazed by the chaos and destruction below.

“On your left!” Solana shouted. She kicked a shuttle door open to gain cover and fired. Liara blocked a biotic throw and retaliated.

There were two asari and one salarian. They were hidden behind an improvised barricade of stranded shuttles. They attacked often, making it seem as if they were more than just three.

“We’re evenly matched!” shouted Liara.

“Hell yeah! We’ll win!” shouted Solana, hitting the salarian’s shields with an overload.

Shepard had no time to join in on the banter. Her teeth were gritted, and her eyes narrowed to slits. She hooked her assault rifle on her back, and picked up the grenade thrower from a fallen turian soldier. She then crawled over to hide behind the trunk of a car. All tires were intact.

She let out a high whistle to get Sol and Liara’s attention and waved them over.

“So here’s what we’re going to do,” she began. “You two are going to start this shuttle and push it toward that barricade, got it?”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Good, while you do that, I’ll blow them up with the grenades from the roof of the shuttle.”

Her friends started. “You’ll – _what?”_

“Yep,” she said, patting the trunk, before jumping on it. “Come on.”

Solana started the shuttle, then returned to her spot behind it. She and Liara exchanged a glance, before they looked at Shepard for the signal. Shepard counted till three, and nodded. They began to push. And push. The car squealed as it was pushed forward. It rattled and jumped and stumbled as it gained speed and hit the shuttles and debris crossing the way.

Shepard had a tight grip on the grenade launcher. The car sped up, and only then did she stomp to the roof of the shuttle. The intruders were shooting were renewed fervor, but Shepard didn’t care. The fire bounced off her shields, making them tremble. Liara opened a biotic shield around her as the two asari behind the barricade focused their wrath on the commander. Solana was groaning and yelling as the weight of the car and Shepard was left on her hands, but the shuttle never broke its speed. Shepard let out a shout. The launcher heated up with every pull of the trigger: she fired three times, and on the fourth the whole barricade lit up in flames.

“Don’t stop!” she shouted as Sol and Liara. The two joined their strength in a last effort, and pushed the car past the flaming barricade with a shout.

Shepard turned in one swift move. She unhooked her assault rifle and jumped off the moving shuttle, over her friends’ heads. Her aim was impeccable.

“So, that was easy,” she said after she dusted off her pants. Liara and Solana didn’t bother to answer. “Wish I had my armor, though.”

“I thought Commander Shepard didn’t need armor,” Solana said.

“Oh, I do. I like wearing it even.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.”

“Shepard’s armor consists of her N7-shorts and her sports bra,” Liara teased.

“No idea what a bra is, but I get the picture. Garrus mentioned something similar once, though he might have meant something else.”

“Hey!” Shepard grumbled.

“That’s not even the best rumor!” said Liara. “The best one I’ve heard so far was about Shepard being attacked in the shower by husks and she defeated them all using soap, the shower curtain and a razor.”

Solana let out a laugh. “I hope they use that scene when they make a movie about Shepard!”

“You guys know I’m right here, right?”

“I do wonder how they’ll portray the romance, though,” Liara mused. “Romance is so easily made cliché in movies… it’s sad really.”

Solana shivered. “I don’t care about cliché. I don’t want to see my brother hitting the bed on a big screen!”

“Oh goddess no! I hadn’t thought of how you would feel about a biopic. But it makes sense, he’s your brother, and Shepard… your sister-in-law. No, I would not want to see my family on the big screens either.”

Shepard sighed. “Can we _please_ change the subject?” she asked. “This is really not the time.”

“Oh don’t worry, we’ll touch on your battle oddities later when Garrus is up again,” the turian said.

“As an employee of the Shadow Broker,” Liara began with a theatrical air, “I have a lot of rumors concerning Shepard saved on a file somewhere.”

“Really. Do you _really_ waste precious space on your datapads just for rumors about what I wear in battle?” Shepard shook her head, flustered by the focus on the topic.

Liara shrugged. “You’re a living legend,” she answered. “And the best thing about being an asari is that I’ll outlive you and, when in two-hundred years people believe you are just that: a legend, I will be able to show them proof.” She shrugged again. “Besides, I only save the best ones.”

“They didn’t invent technology for useful shit, Shepard. They invented digital archives for exactly this time of information,” Solana argued.

“You two are terrible,” Shepard grumbled. “I should have taken Vega and Miranda instead.”

“Oh, but they don’t have as much style as we do!”

The commander waved a hand. “Whatever! We have a battle to win. We need to reach the wall as soon as possible.” She nodded at the shuttle. “Hop in.”

*

Again, they never reached the wall. The same accident that had blocked Sol and Shepard’s way to the barracks, blocked now the road toward the outer wall.

“So that’s why so many people were pissed,” muttered Solana. “This street’s probably the one that leads to everywhere.”

“Well… doesn’t matter now,” Shepard sighed, puffing a hair strand away dangling in front of her eyes. She ran a hand over her sweaty face. “Shit… this really ruined my plan.”

Liara made a face. “Since when do our plans _not_ get ruined?”

Shepard ignored her and jumped out of the shuttle. Nothing had changed in the atmosphere. They were closer to the hospital; she could see the flat roof looming above the shorter buildings around it. Her mind drifted briefly over to her husband. She hoped the hospital staff were evacuating the patients. It would be best if they transported Garrus while he was asleep or sedated. She doubted he would want to miss a fight otherwise.

She led them away from the blocked street and round the corner. Their way was hindered by fleeing civilians, coordinated by police and military, though the latter was largely outnumbered by the former. Shepard and her friends were forced to climb on stranded shuttles and jump from one to the other to pick up the pace of their moving. Shepard looked left and right and pondered what direction to take next. Her narrowed eyes studied the area from the roof of a bus.

She hesitated. Something in the moving crowd irked her. She jumped off the shuttle, barely missing a human with her boot, and approached a turian officer that seemed to be in charge of this evacuation.

He noticed her approach at once. “Can I help you, ma’am?” he asked.

Jane blanched, unused to this civilian address. She looked down. Her clothes… she was wearing her _civilian_ clothes, not her armor. Sometimes Shepard forgot that most people only knew her name, not her face.

She gripped his arm and motioned him to climb up a shuttle. She pointed forward, eyes squinted. “There, do you see that?”

The turian’s eyes narrowed and he stared at the area. He took a while, taking his time to take in everything, so much so that Shepard began to grow impatient. Suddenly he tensed, a subharmonic thrum humming deep in his throat.

“I see ‘em,” he growled. He jumped off the shuttle, and called a younger officer to him. He sent the other officer and two more to the three suspects shuffling restlessly in the crowd.

“Don’t cause another mass panic,” the turian officer warned them.

Shepard watched them leave, and decided to follow, keeping a safe distance. It was a slow going due to the large amount of people. Finally, the three officers stopped the three suspects. It was one salarian, one human and one asari. The former two kept the asari behind them. She was without a doubt the most nervous of the small group: she kept refusing to look the officers in the eye; and in turn made the others impatient and snappish.

It was difficult to listen to what they were saying. The officers sounded threatening and the suspects defensive, making them look all the more suspicious. However, nothing they were saying supported Shepard’s initial suspicion. She was about to return to her friends, when she noticed something. The asari’s eyes kept darting to the now deserted entrance to the shopping center. Shepard watched closer. She did it again and then tugged at the human’s sleeve, giving him a pointed look.

Shepard passed by the interrogation, silently asking one of the officers to accompany her. They distanced themselves from the scene and moved with cautious steps toward the entrance of the shopping center.

It was deserted. The sun rays hit the dirty glass of the revolving door. The high walls had a layer of paint with the color of mahogany. The nearer the ground they were, the dirtier the walls were. There were larger and smaller signs nailed to them, advertising the various offers from the shops within the building.

Jane and the officer looked around. Aside from a dirty bench and two stuffed trash bins, there was nothing out of the ordinary. She and the other exchanged looks.

Something was odd. Shepard walked back to the beginning of the alley where she noticed a couple of loose bricks; the officer meanwhile neared the revolving door. He pushed against the glass and found it was locked. 

“Ma’am, could you call my partner over to help?”

“I can help,” said Shepard and stopped beside him. She looked inside. All the lights were still on. Shepard was usually soothed by illumination; the dark only brought forth all the things she tried to suppress during the day. The sight of the bright hallway, with its smooth, white marbled floor, and the shops visible from where they stood, was not welcoming, but uncanny. She could imagine the souls of the forgotten dead wandering these halls at night.

“What do you need?” she asked.

“The door’s blocked,” said the officer. “I need you to-”

Shepard burst the glass with one gunshot, making the man beside her jump back with a startled cry.

“Oh…” he gasped, and gave a shrug. “Yeah, that works too.”

The officer, being the only one with a protective armor, began to brush the remaining shards of glass away. He then, casting one encouraging look at Shepard, stepped inside first. There was a ping, like a ringing bell, and they both looked down.

It was a weird thing, but definitely dangerous. It was a small, a tiny, object; shaped like a fishing hook, it was barely the size of half a thermal clip. A wire was attached around its end. They followed the wire with their eyes. It led in two directions: left and right and disappeared as it went deeper into the shopping center.

Shepard was suspicious and confused. The officer’s eyes widened. His step backwards made the fishing hook-object twitch and a shiver run along the wire.

“OUT!” he shouted, shoving Jane back.

The force of his push made her stumble. There was another sound- like a needle hitting the ground with the volume magnified a hundred times.

The explosion pressed Shepard flat on the ground. She curled her legs up, and wrapped her arms protectively over her head and face. Still, shards and rock hit her body. Cries burst past her gritted teeth as shards cut her skin and caught in her hair.

There was only noise. The roar of the explosion and the destruction it created drowned the screams. And when the explosion was over the noise continued with the returning gun fire and the screams from scared civilians.

Shepard uncurled slowly, highly aware of the pain as the ringing in her ears began to subside. At least the palms of her hands were unharmed, but she still couldn't touch the shard littered ground. She picked out a piece of glass dug into her cheek and scrubbed off any debris and dust covering her body. Getting up was painful and dizzying. Smoke dimmed her senses and it was still _so loud!_ She took a step, stumbled and had to get down on her knees again.

"Shepard!"

Shepard looked up, eyes wide open, and caught sight of Sol and Liara. The two were unharmed as far as she could tell, aside from a couple of bruises and cuts. They helped her up to her feet and dragged her away from the fire now consuming the shopping center.

Limbs were strewn over the destroyed area. There were dead people everywhere – civilians judging by their attire, and a few police officers.

"What happened?" she yelled.

Sol reloaded her gun. "We don't know!" she cried, subharmonics trilling loudly. "It... You just turned the corner and then - _Boom!_ Suddenly some guy in the crowd started shooting around, and this guy shot back, but hit somebody else, and then Liara used her biotics to shield us from another one of those fucking blasts and – yeah.” She inhaled sharply. “What a fucked up day, right? At least Garrus is safe!”

Shepard grunted something and took cover to gather herself. The impact of the explosion joined the effect the lack of sleep had on her. She felt… not ineffective, because if there was something she was not, exhausted or well rested, then it was that; but close to the edge. Had she been alright she wouldn’t have been surprised by those tiny, fish-hook looking bombs in the revolving door.

Careless. It was a deadly attribute. The officer she had been with, and God knows how many other more had paid for it.

Liara noticed a shift in her expression and put a hand on her back.

“It was not your fault,” she said. “These people were most likely allied with Alina. They must have been planning this attack for a long while.”

“I wonder how long,” Shepard gritted, uncurling her fists with a slow exhale. She looked at her friends. “Don’t hesitate to fight back,” she ordered. “You’ll notice if they are innocent, but don’t go for the killing shot if you’re not sure.”

Liara hesitated. “So, we shoot at civilians?”

Solana gave her an odd look. "What civilians?" the turian asked flabbergasted.

Liara glared at her. "The civilians!" the asari shouted. "The ones who don't have any military training!"

Solana shook her head. "I don't understand... Don't your people go to the military?"

"Not all of us!"

The turian looked at each of them with dawning incredulity. "You’ve got to be kidding me... There _are no_ turian civilians!"

Shepard let out a shout, before Liara could snap something back. “There’s people dying around us!” she yelled. “So get a grip or I’ll knock you both out!”

They fell silent.

“Now, are you with me or not?”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Good,” she said, gruffly. “Move out.”

*

Shepard led her team to where the fighting was the strongest. Not the outer wall (by this rate the fight would be over when they reached it), but around the Forum. It was one of the largest areas in the center of Prima, a center of businesses and culture, depending on what side one frequented. The hospital bordered a few blocks away from the business area; its flat roof was visible from where Shepard was covered, waiting for her shields to recharge.

The intruders had blocked the gate to the second ring, which was mostly urban area. They were fighting a lost battle, so much was obvious, but they fought with the will of a thousand men. They had placed themselves in strategic places, blocking those that could advance the opponents. They had the gate to their backs, shooting down anyone who tried to pass.

The amount of (civilian) bodies sprawled on the ground was discouraging.

Shepard took one look and knew what the problem was.

“There,” she said, pointing at the barricade. “You see that, Sol? Take out that asshole.”

Solana’s eyes squinted, staring through the gathering dust and the bright rays of the sun. Her face lit up in recognition. “The machine gun? Got it.”

“I’ll cover you.”

After a few attempts that took more time than was desired, Solana finally destroyed the machine gun, the sparks from its destruction taking out the man behind it.

It happened suddenly, in a blink of an eye. A door belonging to one of the many building jarred open. Smoke joined the heated air outside. And out of the shadows walked Garrus, muzzled, armed and naked. Behind him the shadow revealed more turians; all injured and maimed from their time of capture. Whether it was Garrus’ muzzle state (the fabric was stained), the missing or misshaped mandibles, plates, eyes or limbs, they looked like the monsters the first humans who encountered turians had claimed them to be.

Garrus made a sound – a choke, a growl, whatever it was, the others understood, because they raised their guns in unison and fired.

Garrus’ eyes squinted in the gloom of the gunfire. Through his muzzle, he spat out blood in regular sequences. He had to be choking on it, biting on the bandage holding his face together. But his aim had not changed; flawless and deadly, only the fun and the teasing was missing.

He shot the asari standing over Shepard in the face, before killing a firing salarian. Then, he turned to a female turian, who was missing several facial plates, pointed a finger at her, and then dragged it over to the blocked gate. She obeyed, her ugly face twisting in pain as she aimed and shot a grenade. The door exploded, burring their enemies along the way, and thus allowing Prima’s soldiers to storm through and join the fight.

A wide grin twisted Shepard’s lips. “Yes!”

Just then, Shepard saw Alina slipping out from the heat of the fight. The asari’s clothes were quite torn. Her face was smeared with sweat and dust and blood – not hers; and still she kept the same careless elegance in her movements.

“Oh hell no!” Shepard shouted. She hit the spy with a throw, managing to kick her off her feet. Alina was more surprised than injured. She shook her head to center herself. The moment she caught sight of the commander’s red hair, she was up on her feet, continuing her escape.

“Shepard!” Liara stopped on her tracks when she saw just who her friend was running after. Her mouth dropped open, an angry flush spreading across her face. She hesitated for but a second, then joined in the hunt.

“Get out of my – _way!”_ Alina roared. She fired her gun, killing those in her way if her biotics didn’t remove them.

Liara caught up to Shepard, and together they followed the spy into a shopping center. Unlike the previous shopping center Shepard had seen, this one was not empty. There were people hidden in the shops, screaming as these three furies of death stormed past them. Alina pauses to shove a bench with her biotics in her enemies’ way. Shepard rolled underneath the flying bench; Liara had to stop completely.

Finally, Alina found an emergency exit. Its door burst open under her grasp. She skipped the stairs, elevating herself instead down with a strong burst of her biotics.

“You’re not getting away, traitor!” Jane cried, taking the usual way down.

When Shepard reached the bottom the emergency door was still swinging from the force which Alina had used against it. The sun light hit her eyes, making her squint, but whatever discomfort she felt was short lived as she saw that the road was blocked again.

A smirk curled her lips and she slowed her steps. “There road is blocked, Alina. It’s over.”

Alina’s shoulders were tense, her hands curled into fists. Shepard barely had a moment to duck as she lanced her biotics against her. Shepard shot back, only for the shot to bounce off her shields. Alina lanced another attack, more forceful than the last, and again Shepard evaded it.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Shepard thundered, lancing a throw against her. She was no match for this asari in terms of pure biotic strength. At least not in a space with so little room to move and so little cover. Still, she had faced worse odds before.

“All the people who died today because of you! Did Latus’ trust mean nothing to you?” she cried.

Alina effortlessly blocked the throw with a barrier, and scowled. “It did mean a lot to me,” she replied with a snarl. “Without it I would have made no progress!”

“Well, your progress means nothing!” Shepard snapped. “You lost, Alina!” she said, gesturing at the barrier behind the asari. “Even now the military is securing the wall! They are killing whatever amount of terrorists are shooting in the streets! You lost!”

“Have I?” she cocked her head, tattooed brows raised. “Commander, look around you. This city is consumed by chaos. Even if I die, I will have succeeded – maybe not in the way I had expected, but victory nonetheless.”

“Traitor,” she spat. “Does loyalty mean nothing to you? I wonder just what Sakkem did or said that made you join him.”

Alina smiled. “There was little words involved,” she said. “All I needed was to look around. Turians have more say in Rubrum’s politics than any other race, even though my kind has been around longer than they have. Latus’ obsession with me was annoying, and despite that he still never managed to stay faithful to me.” Her smile wavered, eyes growing cold. “Just look at your asari friend, that... _whore_ , you sold out to him. I knew the moment you brought her in that it was to keep him and me under watch. You _bitch!”_ she snarled. “Your husband never noticed and he failed because of _my_ interference! I saw what he looked like! Weak! Pathetic! A turian should not cower before anyone! Nobody should see a turian’s back unless they’re dead, and Garrus Vakarian failed!”

Shepard had turned to stone. Her jaw ached from pressing down so hard. Her nails dug into her skin. Her mind and heart whirled with pain and fury unfamiliar to her. It was not righteous fury, not the kind she had felt while facing the Reapers. It was personal. Nothing, nobody had ever hurt her so much only by speaking blasphemy about a person she loved so deeply as her husband.

Alina was on a roll. “And I – I have brought truth back to this colony!” she growled. “Sakkem speaks the truth! This planet doesn't belong just to these turians! And their responsible for the miseries of so many people in this galaxy. The krogan and…” Her lips twitched with something ugly. “… the _humans_ , your kind, _Commander Shepard_ , have suffered a lot because of them.

“Who will you side with, _Commander_ _Shepard,_ when the war breaks out between the races? The turians are turians, and the krogan will side against them. Only political wrangling and connections will tell on what side the others will be, but I suspect, based on the short history of your kind, that the Alliance will not be keen on siding with your husband’s species.

“Either way, _Shepard_ , you lose.”

“I only have the present to focus on,” Shepard replied roughly. “And the present is the only thing you have left.”

Alina shifted her stance into the defensive. “I am ready to die for the cause.”

Shepard lowered her gun. “Good,” she said, stepping back as Liara stepped forward, the dust clearing as she made an entrance. “Because you know what they say: never piss off a jealous mistress, and you just managed to piss off the wrong one. You will remember her as my asari friend, the _‘whore’_ as you so nicely put it.”

Alina’s gaze snapped up. Liara let out a fierce cry. The biotic throw bounced back against Alina’s superior barrier, but it was enough to make her stumble.

“I have defeated stronger people than her,” she snarled, levitating a rock and throwing it against the other asari. Liara destroyed it, lifting up a barrier before the shards could hit her.

“Good,” Shepard said again. “Maybe the experience will give you a head start.” She nodded at Liara, wishing her good luck with her eyes.

Liara turned to Alina as her friend disappeared inside the building. The battle was still going. Shepard was needed elsewhere.

“I give you one chance to surrender, traitor,” Liara snarled.

Alina blinked. Then raised her hands again. Her eyes stared heatedly at the younger asari. “’Traitor’ is such a subjective word, _pureblood,_ ” she replied, showing her teeth.

“You won’t surrender then?”

Her lips pursed into a disgusted snarl. “No.”

Liara's blue eyes narrowed. The biotics flared blue in tune with her opponent. “Then you will _die._ ”


	21. Chapter 21

“Are you ready for the last checkup, Garrus?” the nurse asked. Garrus assumed the question was rhetorical since he couldn’t answer, but he leaned back when she told him to do so.

He felt dizzy. His mind kept vibrating, resonating in his eardrums like a buzzing bee. He had clearly underestimated the effort fighting would take and he had overestimated his own strength. The fighting had not lasted very long, but the walking alone had taken a toll on him, to the point that Tavis had been forced to guide Garrus back to the hospital after the battle ended. But pulling the trigger had not been that hard and finding that out gave a big spurt to his self-esteem; he was still good.

For the checkup, the nurse had asked his sister and his wife to wait outside. Neither of them had been very happy about it; but Garrus had been relieved

Garrus was not an idiot. In his years in C-Sec and before during his time in the military he had been confronted with the horrors that remained written on the body after accidents or battles. He had seen people with missing limbs and plates, and a prosthetic mandible never looked right. He wasn’t sure who exactly produced these, but they sure were not turian.

Maelon stepped in, the latex snapping against his wrists as he pulled on the gloves. “Stressful day.”

“The attacks have left many people injured, doctor,” said the nurse.

He hummed and approached Garrus with intense eyes. “How’s the patient?”

She eyed Garrus. “His bandage is stained. He probably pulled his stitches when he left the hospital to fight.” She gave Garrus a disapproving frown.

Maelon stepped back, looking at Garrus as if he had never seen him. “Really?”

“Yes,” she replied tightly.

“Hm… _Hm!”_ Maelon nodded. “Impressive.” He prodded the stained bandages with thick fingers. “Scissors?”

“Here, doctor.”

“Might hurt a bit.”

The nurse took Garrus’ hand. “Squeeze my hand if it hurts.”

The thin blades cut through the tattered fabric with ease. Maelon let them down on a plate, then began to unwrap Garrus’ face.

 _‘Unwrap’, heh,_ the turian thought. _As if my face was a gift or something_.

Maelon used both hands to take off the bandage; with one he held the one end, with the other he began to unwrap it. At first, Garrus didn’t feel anything. Then, as the second layer disappeared and Maelon continued with the third, the threads caught on the skin between his facial plates. Garrus hissed, hands clamping down on the nurse’s, and jerking back.

“Hold still!” the nurse said.

 _No shit_ , he thought bitterly, emitting a growl in response.

Maelon waited until the patient had calmed. He continued, looking up several times to check on Garrus’ reaction.

“Cut through the threads,” he ordered, holding the bandage still. The nurse obeyed. “Good.”

Garrus felt it, when the last piece of the bandage was taken off. He felt lighter all of the sudden; air hit his sensitive face and finally he could take a deep breath.

He leaned his head back, eyes closed, taking deep, slow breaths, relishing in the uncomfortable pull of his sore mandibles, even in the unusual weight of the prosthetic. He rubbed his face, ran his talons over his mouth plates and down his throat. Spirits, he could feel the scars, especially on his left side, and his left side felt understandably artificial, but -

He took a sharp breath, mandibles flaring wide, and he smiled. _He was free!_

Maelon and the nurse were looking at the result with pleased expressions.

The salarian came closer again. “Checking the functions now.” He snipped at the tip of the prosthetic. The mandible flicked and Garrus winced.

“Pain normal. Should fade as you get used to it.” He snipped at the other mandible. This time the reaction was quicker, _natural_ , and Maelon gave a pleased nod. The doctor pulled off his gloves and threw them in the bin.

“Job done. Looking good, Vakarian.” He raised his thumb. The nurse began to clean up the turian's face as Maelon took a step back.

“Your family will be very happy,” she said, wiping a tissue dripping with disinfectant over his lip plates. Before she could continue, Garrus stumbled to his feet, swapping aside the restraining hands, and made his way to the bathroom.

_"Oh."_

He studied his face in the mirror. He didn't know what he had expected. His heart soared and plummeted simultaneously. He could speak again, shout again, laugh again, but at what cost? He looked bad. Ugly even. The prosthetic broke through his clan markings, and the plate shone like smooth metal, instead of the dry, rough grey it was supposed to have. The scars on his left side stood out as well, though not as starkly as the ones on his right mandible had after he had been hit by a rocket. His talons traced every scar, then moved to the smooth surface of his new mandible and shuddered. He clutched the sink and dropped his eyes.

"Garrus, your family would like to see you. Can I let them in or do you need a moment?"

Garrus swallowed and focused on calming his breathing. The muscles in his face ached from the sudden increase in movement. His mandibles were clasped tight to his face.

"I - I need a moment. Please," he croaked and almost immediately reached up to cup his throat. His vocal chords were sore. It was as if he had swallowed chalk.

"Alright."

He looked in the mirror. His blue eyes were cold and foggy in the harsh light. He didn't blink, forced himself to stare at himself. He was angry, and hurt, and scared, and so many more things that he couldn't comprehend. It was overwhelming. A whole other scale compared to his time after Omega. Then his focus had been on Sidonis and the Collectors. Now... Now he had –

"Sakkem," he growled. It was both a promise and a threat. For the humiliation. For the deaths he'd had to witness and those he had not. Sakkem had to die. His fellowship had to be destroyed. Once the com tower was up again (and his heart clenched in despair at his failure) he would advise Victus to send the army to Rubrum. Drop a large bomb on Sakkem's settlements and eradicate the threat once and for all.

But what about Wrex? a traitorous voice whispered. And Grunt? You are not the only beings in this galaxy anymore.

He huffed and took a deep breath. There was no point thinking about this now. Shepard and Sol were waiting for him. They were surely worried sick. And they had just fought a battle and had no rest. It was selfish of him to keep them waiting. He was selfish and weak. A failure.

He shook his head free from these poisonous thoughts and exited the bathroom. He put on his upper clothes and, adjusting the collar, he squared his shoulders and nodded at the nurse watching him with concern.

“I’m ready."

* * *

 

Shepard and Solana jumped from their seats as the door opened. Maelon closed it behind him and walked over to them. 

"Were there any complications?" Jane asked. 

"Functions normal. Should be a bit sore for a few days," was Maelon's reply. 

"So he's alright then?" 

Maelon shrugged. "Yes." 

Solana moved toward the door, eager to enter. "Can we go in then?" 

"Why not? Nurse is cleaning him up." 

Solana opened the door and Shepard followed closely after. The nurse was indeed cleaning up, but Garrus was nowhere to be seen. 

Shepard frowned. "Uhm..." 

The nurse turned, surprise written across her face. "Just a moment please." 

Solana's eyes wandered over to the closed door to the bathroom. "Uh, I thought he was okay." 

"He is, he just needs a moment to get used to everything." The nurse horded them back through the threshold. "Please wait outside." 

The door fell shut in front of their noses. They looked at each other. They were hurt from being shut out. 

"I guess we have to sit down again..." the turian said. 

"You go sit down," Shepard said, crossing her arms. "I'm waiting right here." 

They didn't have to wait too long, before the nurse opened the door again to let them through. 

"Be patient with him," she whispered, before she left them alone. 

Jane had pictured their reunion many times. Because of the unforseen circumstances, such as Garrus' capture and the following time stuck in a hospital bed with his mouth basically sealed shut, Jane saw herself forced to change the fantasies a bit. Jane was a pessimist, but everyone falls pray to romance at some point. And in that moment everything moved like in a movie. The light of day streamed through the barred window, casting its rays on the seated turian struggling to put his boot on. He was wearing casual clothes, though the upper part was not closed correctly. 

Shepard's breath caught in her throat and, much to her embarrassment, her eyes became suddenly very wet. 

Garrus had to know his wife and his sister were inside, for he was taking a bit too long with his boots. 

Solana broke the silence with a shaky sigh. "Garrus?" 

The tension showed in his shoulders. He put his hands on his thighs, and a moment after he looked up. 

Silence fell again. 

Garrus stood, arms first hanging limp, before his hands met to fumble. Shepard could hear his subharmonics rumbling in his throat as he worked up the courage to speak. His eyes struggled to focus on one of them, being split in their desire to look at both women at the same time. 

"Hey..." 

Solana took a tentative step forward, then another until she reached her big brother. She grasped one of his hands and squeezed. 

"It's good to see your face again, brother," she whispered. 

His natural mandible flicked. "Even if half of it is fake?" 

She shrugged, a chuckle vibrating up her throat. "Honestly? Who cares?" she replied. "It's not like I or Shepard love you for your looks." 

He ducked his head with a small smile. "Yeah..." 

Solana looked at him fondly. She then said something which Shepard's translator failed to translate. It had to be their local dialect, which wasn't translated due to cultural protection laws. The Vakarians had been teaching Shepard some of it, and she knew now enough to distinguish an insult from a compliment (some distinctions were only noticed if one could hear the subvocals), but she missed everything the two turians said to each other. She watched them with fondness nonetheless. 

Silence returned then gradually, much like a person watches the coming of the winter. Finally Garrus' gaze moved to the side, searching and finding hers. 

Shepard swallowed; her mouth was suddenly dry. Warmth suffused her body from head to toe and she could feel it color her cheeks. Her lips twitched. Her heart beat in erratic thumbs, and Garrus, her husband, looked much the same if the heat in his eyes and the almost predatory  stance of his body could be trusted. 

"Shepard," he said, making her shudder. His voice had still the same dual-tone, the same smooth drawl, though it was very raspy and hoarse from lack of use. Shepard did not care. 

A grin brightened her face. "Hey, Garrus," she said, feeling ridiculous and insanely happy. 

He couldn't hell but grin, too, though Shepard could not overlook the stiffness of the prosthetic. 

Solana slid out of the room, discreetly like the arrival of an alien fleet. Jane heard her mutter something about "ridiculous" and "embarrassing", but again, she didn't care. 

"I'll wait for you outside," said the female turian and let the door fall shut after her. 

Now that they were alone Shepard felt utterly overwhelmed. There was so much talk about and she was so happy and so scared, but she did not understand why. Why and how had things between them become so difficult? 

Garrus shifted nervously. "So..." he cleared his throat. "A lot has happened, him?" 

She nodded, finger coming up to scratch her scars. "Tell me about it." she gave him a small, but very soft smile. "You're a trouble magnet, big guy," she teased. 

He raised a brow plate. "I learned from the best," he drawled, "Besides... You keep drawing attention to yourself. I felt it was my turn to cause a scene." 

Shepard grinned back, but deep inside she wondered to what scene he was referring to. The rescue, where she found him chained and muzzled? The first check up where hein his confusion attacked a nurse and Mealon? 

She released a deep sigh and put the grin back on her face. 

"Hoy hungry are you?"

* * *

 

In close(d) quarters husband and wife stood beside each other in silence. They don’t touch, are not even near enough to come close to it. There was an invisible wall that kept the small distance large, and it’s one that they have risen around themselves. The unspoken hung heavily over them; the words were constant whispers in their ears, demanding to be spoken aloud and finally released. But husband and wife knew that to speak meant to make it real; it meant to share the burdens of their own singular traumatizing experiences. Garrus loves Jane, and Jane loves Garrus. They both knew it in the same way they know how to breathe almost. But one thing that could override that love is the worst feeling of all: fear.

They were afraid of many things, and funny enough none of those things was the battlefield. There at least things were simple: to kill or be killed. Here, however, they tread on a floor made of glass. To speak and not to speak would cut the glass regardless and their relationship would inevitably be affected by it, regardless of how lightly they tread.

Their quarters were dark: the blinds were shut; and golden rays of sunlight slid between them inside. Garrus looked around. It was clean, but not tidy. He could swear he had left it both clean and tidy. He glanced sideways at Shepard. It must have been her. One thing he had discovered in the time they have been together was that he was the tidy one and she the one who let everything lying around.

Shepard smiled sheepishly. “I checked for bugs.”

He crooked a browplate. “I did the same thing when I arrived.” He sighed, looking at Shepard’s clothes on the floor, then at the closed door of the connecting bathroom. He rubbed his neck. “I think I…” His thoughts wandered away.

Shepard tilted her head. “Yes?”

Where was he? Where did he go? He didn’t understand how his thoughts had managed to stray when he’d had the intention to say something. He was left cold. Something… something had shocked him, but what?

“Garrus?”

He was grateful that she wasn’t touching him. His head dropped slightly, embarrassed by his relief. It wasn’t the way a man should feel about his wife.

“Yeah?”

She was watching him intently. He wondered how far she could see. “You wanted to say something.”

“Yeah… my thoughts moved too quickly. It wasn’t important anyway.”

She nodded slowly, then gestured at the mess. “I think I’m going to clean up,” she said, ducking to pick up a datapad. She turned it on and then turned it off when she saw its contents.

He was still rubbing his neck. “Okay…”And suddenly he remembered what he wanted to say before. “I’m taking a shower.”

She mumbled something as she pondered what to pick up next, and Garrus entered the bathroom.

He took a heavy breath. It was very small. He took off his shoes. The tiles were cold. His tentative steps seemed to echo in the small bathroom. The curtain was draped fully over the expanse of the shower. He pushed it open, body tense in ridiculous expectations to see somebody crouched behind it. The shower was empty, obviously.

The first thing he did, was to wash his hands. The next, to prepare a towel. As he did so he realized he had no clothes but the one he was wearing. But he was tired and it was late enough to go to bed. Should he go back and take new clothes or was it okay to go to bed without any clothes?

He looked up, and his reflection looked back. The sight pulled at his stomach. He hadn’t been wrong: it wasn’t horrible, per se, but the prosthetic was ugly. It wasn’t ridged, it wasn’t rough like the natural plates on his body. The color was wrong as well, because while his plates were a light grey, the color wasn’t smooth and it wasn’t metallic; the prosthetic, however, was smooth in both texture and color, and had a metallic sheen. It was absolutely hideous. It reminded him of husks, of cyborgs the likes the movies show. But the aesthetic value aside, there was the symbolic aspect as well. Garrus had failed and a lot of people died.  

The shower was quick and he toweled himself off with a numb mind. A bit of blood came off as he dried his face carefully; the doctor had said that there might be a bit of that until the wounds healed fully. Another look into the mirror and Garrus’ hand twitched with the urge to rip off that unnatural thing stuck to his face. 

The room was tidy when he stepped back into their shared cabin. It was now dark. The window was open. Shepard sat on the desk. The surface was clattered with all the things she did not know where to put. Fondness spread warmth through his chest as he watched her read.

He cleared his throat and waved at the floor as she turned to him. “You were quick,” he observed.

She gave him another intense look, eyes narrowed slightly. “You were inside for an hour,” she said slowly.

Garrus stilled. His hands met and then fell back to hang limply on his sides. “Oh.”

She kept her eyes on him. It was dark enough that the color of her irises, which he knew was green, was hidden, but light enough to make the white of her eyes visible. It gave her a very… inhuman aura. His mother had always said that light brought out the essence of spirit in everyone; Garrus, however, had spent a lot of time in the darkness, and now he recognized again that it was in the dark that he saw the essence of the spirit. Now, Shepard looked more than just a woman; she looked threatening and wise without really judging him.

Shepard sighed and stretched loudly. “I think I’m calling it a night.”

He nodded. “You look very tired.”

She laughed. “You have no idea,” she said. “I got to sleep a bit during your surgery, Sol and I took turns, but since then…”

He lowered his head, fingers caught on the bed sheet. “Yeah… I’m sorry ‘bout that.”

She stopped, shoulders half out of her shirt. “Don’t be,” she said seriously, her voice rough on the last words. “None of that was your fault.”

Garrus loved her for saying that, but she wasn’t right. He laid down, draping the blanket over his body.

Shepard changed into her sleep clothes; Garrus watched her discretely. First, her shirt came off, replaced by the N7-tanktop she loved so much. Then she took off her pants, and instead she put on a pair of red boxer shorts with small figures that Shepard insisted were “Spongebobs”. He still had no idea what a “Spongebob” was and he was, to be honest, a bit scared to look it up.

She kicked off her socks and approached her side of the bed, her steps making her hips sway in a compelling manner. Like a bell. He wasn’t sure if he should say that out loud: what if humans found that offensive?

“Could you please pick up your socks?” he asked suddenly.

“Why?”

He sighed. They had always the same conversation. “Because every time you leave your socks on the floor I end up tripping over them, when I use the bathroom in the night.”

That drew a chuckle out of her. Probably from thinking of all the times Garrus’ curses had woken her up from her sleep. But she was so kind as to kick them to the side.

She bowed before him. “Anything else, my Lord?”

He barked out a laugh. “No, Shepard. You’re allowed to lie down next to me now.”

“How kind of you,” she grinned, slipping into the bed with a loud groan. “God, finally…”

Silence spread. Minutes passed. He could hear the vibrations of movement below and outside: just because he and Shepard were calling it a night, didn’t mean that the rest of Prima was prepared to do that.

Shepard started laughing. It wasn’t a happy laugh, but she wouldn’t stop.

Garrus stared at her, disgruntled and confused. “Why are you laughing?”

Shepard tried speaking, but laughter made it impossible. She shrugged, tried to stifle her laughter with her fist, but even then it didn’t help. Tears slipped from her eyes, her jaw began to ache; she hadn’t laughed this hard in a long time. Her chest hurt, her throat was sore. And suddenly he understood and joined then, too.

They stopped slowly after a few minutes. They sighed at the same time, gazing up at the roof. The silence, in direct contrast to the previous laughter, was glaringly loud; it could not be ignored.

“What a day…” he whispered, voice hoarse. He hadn’t used his voice for a long time, now it was sore from the sudden overuse. His fingers kept rubbing the mattress.

Jane’s chest hitched with a suppressed chuckle. “Tell me about it,” she said. “We’re such a mess, Garrus.”

He thought about it, looked at her from the side. She was staring at the roof still, but something about her eyes nagged him. He studied the expression in them, the tight line of her pink lips and the tension in her jawline. This observation led to the question: was she upset because of the attacks and the situation they were in now, or was it something unrelated to Sakkem?

Garrus turned on to his side, biting down a groan; he was sore all over. She looked at him as his finger brushed over the curve of her shoulder.

“I know I’ve been the center of attention, but are you okay, Shepard?”

She hesitated and something in her closed down. He would have believed her otherwise when she said, “Yeah, I’m fine, just exhausted.”

He hummed, subvocals thrumming in his throat. “Are you sure?”

“I think I know the way I feel, Garrus.”

If she was turian, she would have heard the sarcasm in his subharmonic hum. “Okay,” he said and turned onto his other side.

There was silence again – it seemed to be the only constant in their quarters. Shepard broke it with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just… it was a long day.”

“I know,” he mumbled, tugging the bedsheet higher.

“We… can talk tomorrow, if you want.”

“Okay.”

“And Otur asked if you wanted to participate in the preparation for the next mission,” she continued. “You know we have to get Salva back to get in touch with Victus.” She huffed. “Otur repeats it every time we meet. Ass.”

He chuckled lowly. “You didn’t warm up to him?”

“More like he didn’t warm up to me,” she replied. “Although I admit, I’m not making an effort to change his mind. Why should I if he doesn’t want to?

“Anyway, he asked me if you wanted to participate. Next meeting is tomorrow.”

Garrus hummed.

“Are you going?”

“Yeah, why not?”

He felt her smile. “Good."

* * *

 

The next morning wasn't any less awkward. The room was thick with their pent up restraint. Soon it would shatter. Circumstances would tell how badly.

They dressed in silence. Garrus used the bath first, then Shepard. Then they left their cabin together to have breakfast.

It was fairly early, approximately 7 a.m. and the mess was already bristling full.

"The attack yesterday must have everyone on the alert," Shepard observed as they set their full plates on a free table. Garrus' response was a muffled hum: his mouth was currently full. He swallowed loudly and sighed.

Shepard's lips quirked. "Good?" she asked.

He chuckled lowly and swallowed. "What's the human saying? 'Time makes the heart grow fonder'?"

"Almost. It's ' _absence_ makes the heart grow fonder'."

He made a loose hand gesture and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Basically the same. But you get what I mean."

She nodded slowly. "I've to take you to that café Sol and I found a few days ago." She broke off, gazing into the distance. "No... that was _yesterday_." She shook her head and ruffled her hair.

Garrus made an understanding sound. "Time flies, huh?"

She smiled weakly, playing idly with her breakfast. "Anyway, they serve also some turian dishes."

"Well they have to, don't they? They'd cut themselves off at least half of the customers if they didn't."

"Hmm... Sol ate this weird thing. Reminded me of porridge, it just had a lot more meat and less milk."

His browplates shifted closer, then relaxed as his expression brightened. "They serve that? Awesome!"

"How come you haven't been there yet? It's pretty close to the hospital."

"I've been to the hospital only twice, not counting this last one," he explained. "Once, when I had a concussion after that attack in Salva, and the second time because Syrus got hit by salarian tech and medigel wouldn't work on his wound."

Shepard nodded again, mind wandering to a different topic. "Syrus... he didn't make it, didn’t he?" she said softly.

She saw the tension settle in him immediately. He stopped eating and placed his palms flatly on the table. "No," he whispered.

"Do you know what happened to him?"

He nodded slowly. "I do," he said and his mandibles began shifting in distress: tight - lose - tight - lose. He pushed his plate away. "I -  I don't want to talk about this anymore." He looked away.

Jane bit her lip and nodded, throwing a glance at the high-placed clock on the wall. "We have to go anyway," she sighed, pushing back her chair. "Come on, Otur's going to have my head if we arrive late to the meeting."

*

Garrus had not been present for the emergency meeting right after the end of the battle, but Shepard had and she was excited to move forward. First, the matter of the Primarch: they needed to replace Latus. 

The other matter was the com tower. There was no going round it, they needed it back in their control if they wanted this conflict to end. Otur was nagging constantly about it. As if Shepard could work miracles. And even if she could, Otur would deny all of it. 

People were also getting angry and tired and therefore irrational about the entire thing. It wasn’t just in the barracks where Shepard could overhear the hissing comments about the krogan and the displeasure at the Hierarchy’s cowardice to stand firm before the ‘useless Council’.

Shepard had not missed any of the meetings with Otur and Areem and Latus. The four of them had discussed at length all the possibilities and options, leaving only the highest risks on the table when forming various strategies. So far, they had made progress only in the sense of what did not and would not work. They could not rely on the com signals since Sakkem had the com tower under control. This made improvisation and good leadership indispensable. But as Latus had aptly said, ‘it’s easy to form soldiers; it’s a lot harder to form leaders.’

That morning they met in the war room in the Primarch’s building. The only lights came from the consoles and the projector. Otur was already there, as was Areem. They greeted her respectfully as she entered. 

But when Garrus stepped into the room right after his wife, their demeanor changed, especially Otur’s. They were experienced enough not to ogle at the obvious prosthetic, though it was natural that their eyes were drawn to it at first. But otherwise their postures relaxed more than with her, as it does when people of the same species come together.

Otur took a step toward him, face brightening slightly as he reached out a hand. “Vakarian,” he said, with a surprised flick of a mandible. “It’s good to see you on your feet again.”

Garrus shook his hand and bowed his head curtly. “Thanks, I feel so too.”

The older turian released an assertive sound, before turning back to the projector, gesturing at them to gather close. Shepard’s brows furrowed, a bit put off that Garrus was receiving a better treatment than she. With a quick shake of her head, Jane dismissed the jealousy; if Otur wanted to be like this, then that was fine. She would not lower herself down to his level.

Besides… she cast an intense look around the gathered turians. Garrus stood, hands clasped behind his back, at the table, Otur standing across from him and with Areem standing between them. She noticed the different stance they both unconsciously took when in her husband’s presence. She caught Garrus making a wry comment and she definitely noted Areem’s mischievous grin and Otur’s discreet chuckle. A warmth very similar to pride made Jane’s chest puff. As she watched Garrus study intently all the notes from the previous meetings she couldn’t help but smile and think that even if he was a “bad turian” he still deserved all the respect they offered him.

It was really unfortunate that they weren't alone. It would be inappropriate to walk up to him and squeeze his hand and smack a kiss to his mouth.

“What do you think?” Areem asked Garrus as the latter put down the datapad.

“Well… considering most of what’s written in here is a ‘no, too risky’, not much.” He shrugged. “That leaves us with very little room to move.”

Areem nodded. “We’re in a tight spot-”

“Without the com tower we can’t communicate with the outside world and with each other, and we need to communicate with each other to reconquer the com tower.” Garrus chuckled, his subvocals a high-pitched tune. “Can we roll the dice to change our odds or is it too late?”

Otur sighed, talons digging into the table. “It’s not us who hold the dice anyway,” he interjected. “Let’s focus now on the mission.”

Silence dropped. A red light was blinking in the middle of the projected image of Salva and its surroundings.

Areem shifted, running a hand over his fringe. “This would be so much easier if the Primarch was still alive.”

Garrus started. “Latus is dead?”

They all stared at him. “You didn’t know?” asked Shepard.

He shook his head. “No! I just heard that we won before I returned to the hospital! Spirits…” he had to take a seat. “I worked with that man a lot since I arrived in Rubrum. I can’t believe it.”

He looked up. “How did he die?”

“You remember his assistant?”

“Which one?” His eyes widened and he leaned back. “Alina?”

“Yes -”

“She killed _Latus?_ Why?”

She glanced at the others. “Alina was a spy.”

Otur cleared his throat as Garrus’ mandibles dropped incredulously. “We can discuss this later. But just know that the responsible was killed in the battle. 

“But back to Salva. I suggest a division of three groups focused on the three most important around the com tower.” He zoomed in on one spot in the turian city, very close to the com tower. “They will have to be trained into working all three together of course. I don’t believe they’ll make it into this area without coming face to face with opposition. I think here would be the right spot for the groups to split. One goes here, the other here and the smallest one follows them both.”

Shepard frowned, planting her hands flat on the table to lean closer. “I think I understand. The first two groups clean up the building and the third then follows.”

Otur nodded. “Yes, my plan would be to have the third group reach the com tower while the others fight.”

“That’s why the third group has to be small,” said Garrus. “The smaller the less likely it is to be noticed.”

Areem cleared his throat. “That still doesn’t explain how we will get even close to the city. You know what kind of tech the salarians have, and who knows what kind they are developing right now. Even if these three divisions wipe out the entire building, there’ll be at least four times as many krogan and salarian coming after them.”

“And the com tower is in the center of the city.” Otur paused, then raised his head to meet Garrus’ eyes across the table. “Do you remember how much of Salva was destroyed?”

Garrus swallowed. Jane noticed how his prosthetic mandible clung tighter to his face than the natural one. “I don’t Sir,” he answered. “We blew up everything we said we would, just not in the right order. But not all buildings were destroyed I think.”

Otur didn’t seem very happy about this answer. He glared down at the map. “There are so many variables we don’t know…” he growled. “I hate going to a battle without having all the information on the table.”

“Chaos thrives in a battle,” Garrus pointed out. 

“Besides, whatever plan we make beforehand, it will change when the battle starts,” Shepard added.

“And whatever we decide now, we still won’t be ready to head out until at least a week.”

Otur brushed his fingers over his clan markings. “True.” He huffed a sigh. “At least we can begin-” he cut off suddenly, eyes wide. His hand, which he had raised to brush over the console, lowered slowly. “What if… we use the _hastatim_ to clean up Salva before we enter?”

Silence again.

“The _hastatim_ are only used to break down any resistance or sign of rebellion,” Garrus said. “Seems a bit much to involve them for the com tower.”

“Latus called them once before.”

“He did?”

Areem nodded. “He gave the order to destroy Satah instead of letting it fall back in their hands.”

Garrus lowered his gaze.

Otur gave Shepard a look. “You’ve been unusually quiet, Commander.”

She shot him a look of her own, before focusing on the task. She glared at Salva’s map. “They would bomb Salva, wouldn’t they?”

“Yes, like in Satah.”

Shepard nodded, teeth gnawing on her lower lip. “This would mean the buildings around the com tower would be gone… assuming the krogan haven’t removed them themselves… and then…hmpf.” She pushed herself off the table to circle around the projector. “Fighting in a city is good, because there’s a lot of cover, and it’s bad because you’re constantly on defense. On the other hand, having a flat terrain to maneuver-”

“We’d have to dig trenches to have cover. And any tanks we have outside will likely get destroyed by enemy fire,” Garrus said, gaze softening for a blink of an eye as he looked at her.

“But since we are marching toward the city we are on the offense, while the others are forced on the defense.”

“I can’t lead an army through a city,” Areem spoke up, voice tight.

“And I can’t lead my task force through a flat terrain,” Shepard countered.

The turian looked at her startled. “So you’re planning on being one of the three groups?”

“Yes,” she gave Otur a pointed look. “if all of you agree.”

Otur’s glower was just as obvious as hers. “Of course I do. And since we’re discussing it, I have a candidate for you group, Commander.”

Oh how she hated how he said that title. She crossed her arms.

“I’m sorry, General, but I chose who comes with me.”

“You work best in a small team, right?”

She shrugged. “I work well as long as the people under my command are well trained.”

“I would suggest you go in last. Everyone can fire a gun, but I want you to lead the third team up to the com tower and activate it to call Primarch Victus.”

“You do?” Areem and Shepard both asked.

“Yes, and I suggest you take Solana Vakarian for this task. If I remember correctly, she had a talent for overdriving com signals. A shame she never pursued her career.”

“You want to take Sol?”

Otur nodded. “Yes, Vakarian. I have sent her several copies of documents. The latest studies on communication technology and coding.”

Shepard’s eyes lit up. “I remember Sol mentioning she had a lot to read about coding.”

Garrus waved a hand. “I know, I remember Sol was great at it, but-”

Otur gave him a grave look. “We all have our duty to fulfill. Would you stand in your sister’s way from fulfilling hers?”

Garrus’ jaw tightened and Shepard caught a flash of his teeth, before he calmed. “No,” he said after a cold pause. “No, I wouldn’t.”

The general nodded and turned to Shepard. “Do you agree with my suggestion?”

“I’m not opposed to it,” she admitted. “But I’ll have to look into it myself.”

“This leaves only you, Vakarian.”

Garrus squared his shoulders. “I could lead a team of my own,” he replied. “Though I probably should check up on my old team members, see if they’re fit enough.”

“Hm… and you’ll have to find a good replacement for Syrus,” Otur said.

“Poor man, I wonder what happened to him,” Areem sighed.

Shepard cast a quick look at Garrus and found him staring blankly ahead, still as a statue. Had she known him less… even then she would have known that he was not okay.

“Whatever happened to the other victims,” Otur said. “But they will be avenged.

“Turn the lights on,” he ordered. “This meeting is adjourned.”

* * *

 

It was a while after they'd had lunch, when Garrus forced himself to start doing his usual rounds again. It was odd to be walking freely again. The nurses in the hospital had forbidden him from even getting up from the bed; and before... well, _they_ had made things easy on themselves and simply chained him.

He and Shepard had gone separate ways. She was either exercising (he should do that again some time soon, too) or doing her own rounds. He envied her squad. It felt ages ago when Shepard had come to him to check up on him. Granted, she still did that, but now everything was so complicated.

His first stop was Tavis, since Calah was nowhere to be seen. He had seen her briefly after the battle, but she had been busy with the cleanup then. However, the short conversation had been more than enough for Garrus to suspect that she was not okay. He hoped Tavis would know more.

He found the young turian sitting by a large window outside the gym. A towel was slung over his shoulder. It was wet, so he must have showered already. His shirt had two clasps open, and one was broken. His casual pants were a size too big - maybe Garrus should comission for a better pair.

In the light that streamed through the window from the high midday sun, Tavis' clan markings stood all the more. And not in a good way.

Tavis was gazing out the window, light eyes fixed on a distant place. He was so deep in his own thoughts that he jumped when Garrus cleared his throat.

Garrus smiled. "See something interesting?"

Tavis' eyes refocused slowly. When they finally did, he gave a light shake of his head and an embarrassed chuckle. "No, Sir."

His smile faded as he tilted his head in concern. "Is something on your mind that I can help you with?"

Tavis shook his head again, his eyes widening slightly. "No, Sir. Just thinking. I..."

"Sounds complicated." Garrus sat down. "Luckily, my mind is need of something complicated. All the time lying on a bed with nothing to do all day can really give your brain a hit."

Tavis nodded and was silent. Then - 

"Do you believe in luck, Sir?"

The question took him aback. But he answered it truthfully. "I'm not sure I know anything, to be honest. What I do know is that your actions have consequences and you can run all you want, one day they'll catch up on you."

Tavis nodded again. "I think so too," he said slowly. "But..." He broke off and was quiet.

Garrus gave him a moment to recover and gather his thoughts, hoping that the younger turian would continue. A minute, then two, passed without him speaking up again.

"But?" he inquired gently.

"I don't know how to say it..."

"Try. What's it about?"

"I... destiny. Or fate. I never know the difference between the two."

"Do you believe in it? " asked Garrus.

Tavis sighed, annoyed that he couldn't express himself properly. "I... I don't know."

"Is there something that bothers you about that?"

"I don't know... it's not that it bothers me, but..." he sighed again and sat up straighter, hands planted on his knees to fiddle with the fabric of his pants. "I... doesn't it sound unfair to you - sir?"

Garrus hummed as he thought about it. "I never thought about it," he confessed. "I guess we could argue in what sense destiny would be unfair," he said, "is it to the person with the destiny or without it?"

"Do you think some people are destined to be good?" Tavis said suddenly, words dropping past his mouth plates like pebbles. He looked up, and Garrus could not explain the sadness and self-reprication in them or his dual-toned voice.

"No," said Garrus, voice dripping with conviction.

"But-"

"No," Garrus insisted. "We're all free to choose a side. It's up to you if you want to be a good person or a bad person. You make your own choices and then you die with them."

"But... do you think that some people are meant to go down a certain path, while others chose the right one?"

Garrus gave Tavis a piercing look. "It's your choices, your decisions and your attitude that determine what path you end up taking," he said. "And true, it can happen that you cross a certain line where going back is impossible." His eyes followed every change in Tavis' expression closely. "Does my answer satisfy you a bit?"

Tavis gave a thoughtful hum. "I think so..."

"What brought this about?"

"Oh... just thinking."

Garrus didn't believe him, and he knew Tavis was aware of it. He possessed, however, enough tact to let go of his curiosity, hoping that they'd have more conversations like these in the future.

As he made his way to Calah (Tavis had last seen her up in the barracks) he couldn't help but ponder whether he was even doing it right. Shepard had always known what to say. Later, he discovered that she had gone with what her heart told her when faced with complicated issues, where the official regulations and laws couldn't help. He'd had led several teams over time and he had enjoyed speaking to his squad, but always found the ground underneath his feet shifting whenever they came to him for advice or comfort. Never had he left a conversation feeling that he had done what he could; always thinking that he could have and should have done more to help.

He didn't find Calah anywhere and the others didn't know where she was either.

At the end, he decided to go to Syrus' bunk to make sure his belongings where still there and to pay his respects. Maybe light a candle in his memory.

Garrus sighed as he stepped into the small bedroom. There were four bunkbeds, four very narrow lockers and one small desk nailed to the wall. Every occupant of the bunks seemed to be out; only one of them was gone for good. 

He looked around, for what was hard to tell. Everything seemed to be in order.

Garrus opened Syrus' locker. His casual clothes were neatly folded, except his undershirts. His towel was at the top of the locker, the pair of boots at the bottom. Two datapads were tucked safely away between two pairs of clothing. Not resisting his curiosity, Garrus pulled them out to see what was in them. He turned one of them on and had to chuckle at the content revealed: a recent publication of the incident at the Mass-Effect relay and its consequences. He had to remember that; it sounded interesting.

The other datapad was encoded, which he found odd. It was no hindrance for him, though: two tries were enough to crack the password. The lighting of the datapad brightened, making him blink at the sudden change. The first thing shown was just a page full of words that Garrus could understand separatedly, but not grasp in a complete sentence. He went back to the cover page, and stilled when he saw it.

"A beekeeper's guide for the beginner."

He sank down onto Syrus' bunk, eyes gazing up to stare forward. He put the datapad aside. Beekeeping. Had that been his plan for the future?

It was odd to think about Syrus' future, when that future was dead. It was odd to picture that person doing what they had planned on doing, oblivious to the hidden fact that their time among the living was coming to a close.

Was that always so? Did everybody make plans for a future they would never experience?

Garrus released a slow breath, bowing his head to lean it on his hands.

"I had to look it up."

He looked up, startled, and drained. "Calah?" He shook his head. "What do you mean?"

She nodded at the datapad. "Beekeeping," she said lowly. "I didn't know what that was."

"Oh."

She shrugged. "Worst part is that I can't tell for sure if he would've liked it." Her mandible flicked in an attempt at a smile, but the sound of her dual-toned voice belied everything about her posture. "I thought we'd have more time to get to know each other."

He swallowed. "Me too."

She hummed, discomfort making itself apparent on her. She gave a brisk nod. "I... I'll see you around then, Commander."

He was on his feet as she made a swift turn and began to walk away. "Calah, wait!" He went after her; she stopped, when he called after her.

He studied her for a moment, but her face was like made of ice. "Are you alright?"

Her face crumbled and she took a deep breath to gain control of herself again. Her mandibles fluttered anxiously. "Obviously not, Sir," she answered, syllables clipped.

"Is there something, anything, I can do for you?"

It was her turn to study him, but unlike him she was not capable of holding the gaze. She shook her head. "Is there ever something we can do?" she replied coldly. 

"Of course there is."

A shaky laugh bubbled out of her. "Oh really? is that so?" And without waiting for a reply, Calah turned on her feet and walked away.

Garrus watched her leave in silence. When she was gone, he returned to Syrus' room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure about the two changes in perspectives between Garrus and Shepard in this chapter. If it's confusing for any of you I'll change it after this story is done.


End file.
